WOLFVII.LE 
FOLKS 


dition   First  Edition 


i 


HOWARD  KEGLEY 


j 


LIBRARY 

HBIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


WOLFVILLE   FOLKS 


J 


They  gets  simultaneous  eyes  on  Rose." 


I 

WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 


By 
ALFRED   HENRY   LEWIS 

Author  of 

"Wolfville,"  "The  Story  of  Andrew  Jackson," 
"The  Story  of  Aaron  Burr,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

D.  APPLETON   AND   COMPANY 
1908 

LIBRARY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1907,  1908,  BY 
INTERNATIONAL  MAGAZINE  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
THE  TIMES  MAGAZINE  COMPANY 


Published  May,  1908 


TO 
IRVING   JEFFERSON   LEWIS 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  •  PAGE 

I. — THE  WIDOW  DANGEROUS 1 

II. — THE  RETURN  OF  RUCKER 12 

III. — CHEROKEE  HALL,  GAMBLER 22 

IV. — THE  LOOKING  OUT  OF  FARO  NELL 29 

V. — THE  OFF- WHEELER  OFFENDS 39 

VI. — WOLFVILLE'S  REVIVAL 52 

VII. — BISMARK  DUTCH 63 

VIII.— THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 73 

IX.— THE  POPULAR  SOURNESS 87 

X.— Doc  PEETS'  ERROR 97 

XI. — JAYBIRD  HORNE 109 

XII.— THE  HEIR  OF  THE  BROKEN-O 119 

XIII.— THE  ROSE  OF  WOLFVILLE 129 

XIV.— THE  ROSE'S  THORNS 138 

XV.— SANDY  CARR,  VIOLINIST 148 

XVI. — BOGGS   AND  THE   GHOST 159 

XVII. — THE  GUILE  OF  COTTONWOOD  WASSON      ....  167 

XVIII.— TOP  AND  BOTTOM 177 

XIX.— TEXAS  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 187 

XX.— THE  FALSE  ALARM 199 

XXI. — THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 210 

XXII.— THE  CONFUSION  OF  TALKY 224 

vii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.— SOAP  SUDS  SAL 237 

XXIV.— THE  WOOING  OF  RILEY 247 

XXV.— THE  COPPER  HEAD 257 

XXVI.— THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 268 

XXVII.— THE  WISDOM  OF  Doc  PEETS 281 

XXVIII. — THE  LECTURE  IN  THE  LADY  GAY 289 

XXIX.— CASH  Box  AND  MRS.  BILL .301 

XXX.— MRS.  BILL'S  PROTECTORATE    ,  .  312 


viii 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   WIDOW    DANGEROUS 

WHICH  I've  told  you,"  observed  the  Old 
Cattleman,  puffing  at  his  briar  pipe — 
"which  I've  already  told  you  how  Missis 
Rucker  goes  on  surroundin'  old  Rucker  with  connoobial 
joy  to  sech  a  degree  that,  one  mornin'  when  her  wifely 
back  is  turned,  he  ups  an'  stampedes  off  into  the  hills, 
an*  takes  refutch  with  the  Apaches.  But  I  never  reelates 
how  he  gets  aroused  to  his  dooty  as  a  husband,  an* 
returns.  That  mir'cle  comes  to  pass  in  this  wise." 
Following  a  reminiscent,  smoke-filled  pause,  the  old 
gentleman  continued:  "When  Rucker  is  guilty  of  this 
yere  desertion,  Wolfville  says  nothin'  an'  does  nothin'. 
It  is  no  part  of  Wolfville's  commoonal  respons'bility, 
as  it  sees  the  same,  to  go  pirootin'  off  on  the  trail  of 
Rucker,  with  a  purpose  of  draggin'  him  back  that  a-way 
to  his  domestic  happiness.  His  elopment  is  wholly  a 
private  play,  an'  one  wharin  we  ain't  entitled  to  ask  for 
kyards.  Shorely  not,  wantin'  speesific  requests  from 
Missis  Rucker  so  to  do;  an'  sech  don't  come. 

"On    the    iinme'jit    heels    of    Rucker's    plunge    into 
savagery,  Missis  Rucker  never  alloods  to  him — never 

1 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

lets  on  she  so  much  as  notices  his  absence.  She  con- 
tinyoos  to  deal  her  game  at  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  on- 
moved;  she  fries  our  daily  salthoss,  an*  compiles  our 
daily  flap-jacks — six  to  the  stack — an'  neither  bats  an 
eye  nor  wags  a  y'ear  concernin'  that  vanished  husband. 

"  Nacherally,  thar  ain't  no  one  so  prodded  of  a  morbid 
cur'osity  as  to  go  askin'  Missis  Rucker.  With  her  views 
as  to  what's  comin'  to  her  as  a  lady,  an'  her  bein'  allers 
in  the  kitchen,  surrounded  by  sech  weepons  as  flatirons 
an'  griddles  an'  stove-lifters,  any  sech  impolite  break 
might  result  disasterous.  Old  Man  Enright  puts  it 
right,  an'  his  views  gains  endorsement  by  Doc  Peets,  an' 
others  among  the  best  intellects  of  the  camp. 

"'To  go  pesterin'  around  Missis  Rucker,'  says  he, 
'in  her  bereavements,  would  be  ongentlemanly  to  the 
verge  of  bein'  rash,  an'  the  gent  don't  live  in  Wolfville 
who's  that  foolishly  oncooth.' 

"If  mem'ry  is  sittin'  squar'ly  in  the  saddle,  I  reckon 
now  it's  mebby  a  year  before  Missis  Rucker  mentions 
her  loss.  It's  one  time  when  we-all  shows  up  for  chuck, 
an'  finds  her  in  a  dress  as  black  as  a  spade  flush. 

"The  same  bein'  mournin',  she  explains,  in  answer 
to  a  remark  by  Doc  Peets  complimentin'  her  looks — 
which  Peets  was  the  genteelest  sharp,  an'  the  best  edi- 
cated,  that  ever  dwells  in  Arizona.  'I'm  mournin'  for 
my  departed  he'pmeet.  I  hears  about  it  in  Tucson. 
Pore  Rucker  is  deceased;  an'  of  course  I  dons  black, 
as  markin'  his  cashin'  in.' 

"Yere  Missis  Rucker  snuffles  a  little,  an'  gouges  into 
one  corner  of  her  eye  with  her  handkerchief,  like  she's 

2 


THE  WIDOW  DANGEROUS 

roundin'  up  a  tear.  After  which,  she  sort  o'  runs  a 
calk'latin'  glance  over  us  gents,  then  an'  thar  assembled, 
like  she's  sizin'  us  up  as  to  what  you-all  might  call  our 
domestic  p'ints. 

"  Thar's  a  heap  of  silence  follows  that  look.  Not  bein' 
gifted  none  as  a  mind  reader,  I  can't  say  how  it  affects 
the  balance  of  the  outfit;  but,  speakin'  for  myse'f  per 
sonal,  a  chill  like  ice  creeps  up  an'  down  my  back.  Also, 
I  observes  a  appreehensive  look  on  the  faces  of  Enright 
an'  Boggs,  as  though  they  smells  a  peril.  As  to  Texas 
Thompson,  who  is  camped  next  to  me  at  the  table,  an' 
has  had  marital  experiences  which  culminates  in  a 
divorce  down  Laredo  way,  I  overhears  him  grind  his 
teeth,  plenty  determined,  an'  mutter: 

'"By  the  Ltfne  Star  of  my  natif  state,  I  won't  be  took!' 

"We're  all  some  eager  to  ask  about  them  tidings  which 
Missis  Rucker  ropes  onto  in  Tucson,  but  none  has  the 
nerve.  It's  Faro  Nell  who  comes  headin'  to  the  general 
rescoo.  She's  perched  next  to  Cherokee  Hall,  an'  looks 
gently  up  from  a  piece  of  pie  she's  backin'  off  the  board, 
and  says: 

"Good  sakes,  Missis  Rucker!     An'  whatever  do  you- 
all  track  up  ag'inst  about  pore  Mister  Rucker?' 

"'That  onforchoonate  pard  o'  my  bos'm  has  departed 
this  life,'  responds  the  widow,  moppin'  away  her  grief. 
'I  crosses  up  with  a  Tucson  party,  who  asshores  me  that, 
when  them  Apaches  goes  all  spraddled  out  last  spring, 
they  nacherally  begins  them  hostilities  by  prouncin'  on 
Rucker,  an'  leavin'  him  on  both  sides  of  the  canyon.' 

"'That's  right!'  chimes  in   Dave  Tutt,  who,  bein' 

3 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

married  a  whole  lot  to  Tucson  Jennie,  feels  immune 
from  further  wedlock.  "Whenever  them  savages  digs 
up  the  waraxe,  they  yoosually  inaugurates  negotiations 
by  layin'  out  what  palefaces  is  weak-minded  enough  to 
be  among  'em,  too  dead  to  skin.  No;  it  ain't  crooelty, 
it's  caution.  Which  they  figgers  them  squaw-men,  if 
spared,  will  be  off  to  the  nearest  army  post,  with  pree- 
matoor  word  of  the  uprisin'.  Wharfore,  they  descends 
on  'em  like  a  fallin'  star,  an'  blots  'em  out.  After  which, 
they  proceeds  with  their  regular  killin'  an'  skelpin'  more 
at  leesure.' 

"It's  over  in  the  Red  Light,  to  which  we  reepairs 
when  feed  is  through,  that  the  subject  comes  up  in  form. 
Black  Jack,  the  barkeep,  is  so  impressed  by  the  gravity 
on  our  faces  as  we  files  in,  that  he  announces  the  drinks  is 
on  the  house.  We  refooses;  it  bein'  too  close  on  the 
hocks  of  that  salthoss  an'  them  flapjacks  for  nose-paint, 
an'  we  takes  seegyars  instead.  When  we're  smokin' 
sociable,  an'  in  spite  of  them  alarmin'  fulminations  of 
Missis  Rucker,  has  become  somewhat  onbuckled  an' 
confident  ag'in,  Enright  brings  the  topic  for'ard. 

'" About  her  bein'  a  widow  that  a-way,  Doc?'  he  says, 
addressin'  Peets.  'What  do  you-all,  as  a  scientist, 
think  yourse'f  ?' 

"'Which  it  seems  feasable  enough,'  reesponds  Peets, 
bitin'  thoughtful  at  his  seegyar.  'You  know  what 
Injuns  be?  Startin'  out  to  slay  that  a-way,  they  ain't 
apt  to  overlook  no  sech  bet  as  Rucker.  They'd  be  onto 
him,  first  flash  out  o'  the  box,  like  a  mink  onto  a  settin' 
hen.' 

4 


THE  WIDOW  DANGEROUS 

"'Yes,'  returns  Enright,  some  oneasy  as  to  tone;  'I 
reckon  you  calls  the  turn,  Doc.  They'd  about  bump 
off  old  Rucker  by  way  of  curtain  raiser,  as  they  calls  it 
over  to  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House.' 

"'  Don't  you  allow  now,'  breaks  in  Boggs,  some  agi 
tated  an'  appealin'  to  Enright  an'  Peets  together — 
'don't  you  allow  now,  that  old  Rucker  bein'  wiped  out 
that  a-way,  sort  o'  leaves  the  camp  ongyarded?' 

'"As  how?'  returns  Peets. 

"'As  how?'  repeats  Boggs,  his  excitement  risin'. 
'What's  to  prevent  her  deescendin*  onto  one  of  us,  like  a 
pan  of  milk  from  a  top  shelf,  an'  weddin'  him  a  heap? 
She's  a  mighty  resoloote  female,  is  Missis  Rucker,  an* 
it's  only  last  week  she  ups  an'  saws  it  off  on  me,  all 
casyooal,  that  she's  jest  thirty-eight  years  old  last  grass. 
I  sees  her  drift  now!  That  lady's  makin'  ready  for  a 
spring.  Which  she's  aimin'  to  snatch  a  husband  from 
our  shrinkin'  midst;  an'  nothin'  short!' 

"After  what  I  passes  through  with  that  Laredo  wife 
of  mine/  says  Texas  Thompson,  grim  as  tombstones, 
'you  can  gamble  a  bloo  stack  I'll  never  be  wedded  alive!' 

"As  to  myse'f,'  reemarks  Peets,  imitatin'  a  cheerful 
countenance,  'I'm  barred.  Drug  sharps,  onder  the 
rooles,  cannot  be  claimed  in  private  matrimony — be- 
longin*  as  they  do  to  the  whole  commoonity.  Enright, 
yere,  is  likewise  out,  bein*  too  old.' 

"That's  right!'  coincides  •  Enright,  relief  stealin' 
into  his  eyes;  'I'm  too  far  gone  in  years  to  become  raw 
material  for  nuptials.  Speakin'  what  I  feel,  however, 
I  looks  on  the  sityooation  as  a  heap  extreme.  As  Dan 

5 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

says,  it's  plain  she  has  intentions.  Then  thar's  that 
black  frock:  Which  widows  is  dangerous  in  preecise 
proportion  as  they  sheds  tears  an*  piles  on  mournin'. 
It's  my  onbiased  jedgement  that  she's  fixin'  her  sights 
for  Dan  or  Texas  thar.' 

"  Gents/  interrupts  Texas  Thompson  ag'in,  his 
manner  iron,  'you  hears  what  I  says  a  moment  back! 
Wolfville  may  follow  me  to  the  tomb,  but  never  to  no 
altar.' 

" '  If  I  thought  this  yere  widow  was  that  iminent,' 
says  Boggs,  pacin'  to  an*  fro  like  a  startled  wildcat,  'I'd 
line  out  for  Tucson  ontil  the  footure's  more  guaranteed. 
I'm  nacherally  plumb  nervous;  I  can't  camp  down  in 
the  shadow  of  a  great  threat  onmoved.  We  was  shore 
locoed  to  ever  let  Rucker  get  away  that  time.  We  might 
have  knowed  it  would  end  in  some  sech  bluff  as  this. 
If  I  had  foreseen  the  trap  he  was  settin'  for  us,  I'd  have 
reestored  that  old  profligate  to  Missis  Rucker's  arms,  or 
got  downed  by  the  Apaches  tryin'.  Whatever 's  your 
advice,  Sam?'  he  concloods,  gazin'  anxious-eyed  at 
Enright.  'If  it  was  nothin'  worse  than  a  hostile  sheriff 
on  my  trail,  I'd  stand  my  hand;  but  this  yere  is  when  I 
reequires  counsel.' 

"Seem'  Boggs  so  keyed  up,  Enright  goes  off  on  a 
soothin'  angle,  Peets  chippin'  in.  They  both  suggests 
to  Boggs  that  thar's  no  call  to  be  preecipitate.  It'll 
most  likely  be  weeks  before  Missis  Rucker  really  de- 
clar's  herse'f,  an'  sinks  them  widowed  talons  into  her 
seelected  prey.  Meanwhile,  as  preparin'  for  the  worst, 
all  Boggs  has  to  do,  they  argues,  is  keep  his  mind  on  his 

6 


THE  WIDOW  DANGEROUS 

number,  an'  sing  out  'No'  to  everything  she  says.  Like 
wise,  it  might  be  as  well  to  hold  a  pony  saddled  in  the 
corral,  in  case  of  sudden  swoops. 

"'In  which  event/  says  Enright,  'if  it  turns  out  we 
onderestimates  her  activities  an*  she  wheels  on  you 
abrupt,  thar's  the  pony;  an'  you  plays  the  same — quirt 
an'  heel — as  a  last  resort.  Still,  it's  possible  we're 
seein'  onnecessary  ghosts.  She  may  have  it  in  her  heart 
to  make  happy  some  other  gent  entire.' 

"'  Thar's  one  thing,'  observes  Peets;  'I  wants  it  onder- 
stood,  in  case  this  conference  comes  to  Missis  Rucker's 
notice  later,  that  I  say  she  is  an  esteemable  lady,  an* 
cal'klated  to  raise  the  gent,  so  forchoonate  as  to  become 
her  husband,  to  pinnacles  of  bliss.' 

' '  Also,'  declar's  Enright,  some  hasty, '  let  it  be  onder- 
stood  that  I'm  in  on  them  observations.  As  the  pree- 
sidin'  inflooence  of  the  O.  K.  Restauraw,  Missis  Rucker 
is  onapproached  an'  onapproachable — her  pies  is  poems 
an'  her  beans  a  dream,  as  I've  said  former.' 

"It  happens,  as  it  frequent  does,  that  these  yere  pree- 
monitions  of  the  camp  is  onsustained.  Not  that  I 
blames  Boggs  an'  the  rest  for  entertainin'  'em.  After 
he  crosses  to  the  sunset  side  of  the  Missouri,  a  gent  can't 
be  too  proodent,  'speshully  in  the  matter  of  widows. 
When  one  of  them  forlorn  ladies  spreads  her  pinions,  an' 
takes  to  sailin'  an*  soarin'  an'  soarin'  an'  sailin'  that  a- 
way,  it's  time  for  every  single  gent  to  break  for  cover. 

"No;  as  I  states,  the  timidities  of  Boggs  an'  the  balance 
ain't  upheld.  Not  that  Missis  Rucker  don't  frame  it  up 
none  to  come  flutterin'  from  her  lonely  perch;  only  it 

7 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

ain't  Boggs  or  Texas  or  any  of  the  boys  proper,  it's  old 
Colonel  Coyote  Clubbs  on  whom  she's  closin'  down. 

"You  recalls  how,  yeretofore,  I  onfurls  to  you  con- 
cernin'  the  little  Colonel  ? — how  he's  grizzled,  an'  harmless, 
an'  dried,  an'  lame  of  the  nigh  hind  laig? — how  he's  got 
a  face  like  a  squinch  owl  ?— innocent  an'  wide-eyed  an' 
full  of  ignorant  wonder,  like  life  is  an  onendin'  s'prise 
party?  As  I  then  explains,  he's  p'isenin*  coyotes- — a 
dollar  a  pelt — an'  at  first  has  a  camp  an  hour's  ride  over 
towards  Tucson.  Mebby  it's  two  months  prior  to  when 
Missis  Rucker  gives  it  out  she's  alone  in  the  world,  an' 
goes  to  ghost  dancin',  he's  done  give  up  his  dugout,  an' 
took  to  boardin'  at  the  O.  K.  Restauraw.  Bein'  gre- 
gar'ous,  the  Colonel  likes  company;  an*  as  for  them 
little  wolves,  they're  as  prolific  an'  as  apt  to  find  his  arsenic 
in  the  subbubs  of  Wolfville  itse'f,  as  farther  out  on  the 
plains.  So,  as  I  observes,  he's  now  gettin'  his  chili- 
con-carne  at  Missis  Rucker's,  an*  workin'  out  from  camp 
instead  of  into  it. 

"Which  it's  plenty  likely  we-all  would  have  seen  it 
was  the  Colonel's  personal  trouble  from  the  jump,  only 
the  day  Missis  Rucker  goes  into  black  an'  scares  us  up 
that  a- way,  the  old  cimarron  is  across  to  Red  Dog,  dealin' 
for  a  train  of  burros  to  pack  his  wolf  pelts  to  Tucson. 
As  it  is,  it  ain't  a  day  after  he  gets  back  before  we  iden 
tifies  him  as  the  gent  in  interest.  Missis  Rucker,  as 
though  concealment  is  now  at  an  end  an'  the  hour  ripe 
for  throwin'  off  disguises,  takes  to  hoverin'  over  him  at 
chuck  time,  with  a  terrifyin*  solicitood  that  comes  mighty 
clost  to  bein'  tenderness.  She  takes  to  heapin'  his  plate 

8 


THE  WIDOW  DANGEROUS 

with  viands,  to  a  degree  that's  enough  of  itse'f  to  set  any 
sport  of  thoughtf ulness  to  jumpin'  sideways.  It  shore 
rattles  the  Colonel,  you  bet!  an'  his  appetite  gets  less 
the  more  she  lavishes  them  delicacies  upon  him. 

"'  Which  you  ain't  eatin'  more  than  sparrer  birds, 
Colonel! '  she  says,  givin'  him  a  most  onmistakable  grin. 
'  Yere;  let  me  get  you  some  plum  preeserves — which  they 
ought  to  tempt  a  angel!' 

"With  that  she  totes  forth  one  of  her  partic'ler  air- 
tights,  which  even  Enright  don't  get  a  glimpse  of  only 
Fo'th  of  Jooly  an'  Christmas,  an'  onloads  the  same  on 
the  Colonel.  He  grows  white  at  this;  for,  jest  as  the 
good  book  says  that  it's  vain  for  the  fowler  to  spread  his 
nets  in  the  sight  of  any  bird,  so  also  is  it  footile  for  a 
widow  to  go  inondatin'  any  speshul  gent  with  plum  pree 
serves,  an'  hope  to  have  them  sweetmeats  miscon- 
strooed. 

"Shore,  the  Colonel — for  all  he's  the  guilelessest  party 
that  ever  makes  a  moccasin  track  in  Arizona — realizes 
she's  put  him  in  nom'nation  to  be  Rucker's  successor. 
Likewise  the  whole  outfit  grasps  this  trooth;  an',  while 
the  Colonel  is  turnin'  gray  about  the  gills,  Boggs  is 
breathin'  freer,  an'  the  desperate  look  in  the  eyes  of 
Texas  Thompson  begins  to  fade  away.  Which  the 
same  shows  how,  at  bottom,  man  is  a  anamile  utterly 
selfish.  Once  Boggs  an'  Texas  an'  them  others  feels  safe, 
the  knowledge  that  the  pore  old  Colonel  must  go  cavortin* 
across  the  red-hot  plow  shares,  don't  bother  'em  a  bit. 
But  sech  is  life!  They  coldly  leaves  him  to  tread  the 
wine  press  alone;  an'  all  as  onfeelin'  as  a  band  of 
2  9 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

prairie  dogs.    Which  I  don't  scroople  later,  to  reeproach 
Boggs  with  this  yere  lack  of  sympathy. 

"'What  can  we-all  do?'  he  replies.  'I'm  a  friend  of 
the  Colonel's;  but  what  then  ?  This  is  a  case  whar  every 
gent  must  kill  his  own  snakes.  Besides  I  see  now  she's 
doo  to  make  him  happy.  Do  you  note  how  free  she  plays 
them  plum  air-tights  on  him?  An'  no  more  holdin' 
back  than  if  they're  canned  tomatters!  Rightly  looked 
at,  the  Colonel's  in  a  heap  of  luck.' 

"'Luck  or  no  luck,'  says  Enright,  'the  hands  of  Wolf- 
ville  is  tied.  The  camp  has  an  onbroken  record  of 
backin'  every  matrimonial  venture  as  soon  as  seen. 
Don't  we  put  down  the  Washwoman's  War,  by  weddin' 
French  to  one  of  the  contendin'  females?  Ain't  we 
thar  with  the  goods  on  the  occasion  of  Tucson  Jennie 
takin*  Dave  for  better  or  for  worse?  An',  ag'in  when 
that  pinfeather  person,  Toad  Allen,  comes  squanderin' 
along  with  old  Gleggs'  girl,  Abby?  Also,  ain't  said 
course  resulted  in  sech  onmixed  triumphs  as  that  blessed 
infant  Enright  Peets  Tutt?  No;  it's  Wolfville's  system 
to  play  wedlock  to  win.  An',  while  I  won't  go  so  far 
as  to  say  that,  in  the  present  instance,  we  remains  inert 
in  case  it's  Dan  or  Texas — said  gents  bein'  entitled  to 
partic'ler  consid'ration — now  it  turns  out  to  be  the  Col 
onel  who's  to  draw  the  prize,  Wolfville  stands  nootral. 
Barkeep,  bring  on  the  nose-paint.  Inasmuch  as  I 
trusts  that  all  will  regyard  these  yere  words  of  mine  as 
final,  it  is  meet  we  should  yoonite  in  drinkin*  onbridled 
victory  to  Missis  Rucker,  an*  the  gent  she's  honored 
with  her  preferences/ 

10 


THE  WIDOW  DANGEROUS 

"'Thar's  one  syllable  I'd  like  to  edge  in/  says  Boggs, 
when  he's  emptied  his  glass.  'Don't  you-all  reckon, 
Sam,  that  some  of  us  oughter  ride  herd  on  the  Colonel 
till  she's  tied  him  down  ?  He's  a  gent  of  honor,  an*  as 
clean  strain  as  hornets;  but  thar's  fates  before  which 
even  the  gamest  sperit  breaks  ground.  An*  you  sees 
yourse'f  that,  if  the  Colonel  should  vamos,  it  onkivers 
others  to  attack.' 

"'Which  them  cautionary  moves/  says  Enright, 
'might  not  be  thrown  away.  Although,  I'm  frank  to 
say,  it's  four  for  one  the  Colonel  meets  his  happiness 
onflinchin'ly.  He's  too  p'lite,  that  a-way  however  much 
he  may  distrust  his  merits,  to  fly  from  the  affections 
of  a  lady  an'  take  to  hidin'  out.'" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   RETURN   OF   RUCKER 

ENRIGHT  is  plumb  correct  in  his  count-up  of  the 
Colonel.  As  Boggs  observes,  he's  game  as 
t'rantlers.  Still,  it  ain't  his  sand,  it's  his  on- 
swervin'  p'liteness  an'  good  manners  that's  bound  to  hold 
him.  Said  trooth  is  evident  when  the  Colonel  discusses 
this  new  an'  surprisin'  slant  in  his  fortunes  with  Enright 
an'  Peets.  This  yere  caucus  occurs  two  days  later, 
after  Missis  Rucker  offers  him  her  hand. 

"It's  about  second  drink  time  in  the  evenin'  when  the 
Colonel,  lookin'  pale  an'  shaken,  comes  totterin'  into  the 
Red  Light,  askin'  for  Enright.  Cherokee  Hall,  with 
Faro  Nell  on  the  look-out's  stool,  is  dealin'  bank  at  the 
time,  an'  divers  of  us  is  seein'  what  we  can  do  ag'inst 
him;  but,  at  sight  of  the  Colonel's  face,  one  an*  all  we 
cashes  in.  Cherokee  cleans  up  his  game,  an'  we-all 
gathers  about  to  listen. 

"  *  Which  you've  no  objections,  Colonel,'  asks  Enright, 
mighty  urbane,  'to  the  camp  bein'  in  on  this  powwow 
none  ?  From  the  rapt  look  in  your  eyes,  I  sort  o'  guesses 
what  joyful  things  has  happened,  an'  of  course  if — bein' 
over-delicate,  mebby,  in  affairs  of  the  heart — you  pree- 
fers  this  confab  private,  why  then,  nacherally,  your 
wishes  should  be  regyarded,  an'  private's  the  word.' 

12 


THE  RETURN  OF  RUCKER 

"  But  the  Colonel  says  he  waives  privacy.  The  camp 
to  a  man  is  his  friend,  an'  plumb  welcome  to  his  confi 
dence.  Hearin'  which,  we  draws  up  in  silence,  waitin* 
for  him  to  begin.  As  we  does  so,  Cherokee  whispers  to 
Faro  Nell  that  mighty  likely  she'd  better  put  on  her 
shaker,  stampede  across,  an*  congratulate  Missis  Rucker; 
which  su'gestion  she  yields  to  reluctant,  preferrin'  to 
listen  to  them  adventures  of  the  Colonel. 

' '  It's  this  a-way,'  says  the  Colonel,  when  Faro  Nell  is 
gone  an'  everybody's  organized  comfortable.  'Which 
it's  onnecessary  for  me  to  go  tellin'  a  passel  of  sech  ex 
perienced  sharps  as  you-all  what's  took  place.  Suffice 
it  that  this  evenin',  after  supper  is  over  an'  her  dishes  is 
washed,  she  drives  me  into  a  corner  an'  tells  me  she  is 
mine.  Now  onderstand,  gents  all:  I'm  too  much  a 
slave  to  etiquette,  an'  was  too  well  brought  up  by  my 
folks,  to  go  backin'  out  of  the  love  of  any  lady.  Which 
I've  allers  held  that  a  lady  is  not  to  be  refoosed.  Her 
heart  is  ever  a  boon;  an'  once  she  bestows  it,  no  gent  so 
distinguished  is  possessed  of  any  crooel  license  to  go 
shovin*  back  his  cha'r  or  indulgin'  in  cold  feet.' 

"Which  them  sentiments  does  you  credit,  Colonel,' 
observes  Enright,  as  the  comin'  bridegroom  pauses  to 
wipe  his  for'head. 

"That's  whatever,'  breaks  in  Boggs,  emphatic. 

"No,  sir/  resoomes  the  Colonel,  when  he  ag'in  com 
mands  himse'f ,  '  a  lady  is  not  to  be  declined.  That  is, 
she's  not  to  be  declined,  assoomin'  her  to  be  free.  It's 
on  that  p'int,  an'  that  alone,  I've  come  meanderin'  over 
to  be  heard.  What  I  asks  is  the  one  question:  Is  this 

13 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

yere  old  man  Rucker  shorely  dead  ?  What  I  urges  is  that, 
ontil  the  same  be  proved,  I'm  entitled  to  a  stay  of  ex- 
ecootion.  I  leaves  it  all  to  you — to  you  Enright,  an' 
to  you  Peets,  do  I  ask  too  much?  Lookin'  at  the  play 
from  every  angle,  an*  keepin'  it  before  you  that  my  sole 
reason  for  balkin'  is  a  reason  of  morality,  I  puts  it,  as 
gent  to  gent,  whether  I  ain't  right?' 

"'This  yere  is  a  mere  quibble!'  shouts  Boggs,  plenty 
heated;  but  Enright,  who's  the  soul  of  fairness,  stops 
him. 

"'It's  impossible  to  deny/  responds  Enright,  when 
Boggs  growlin'ly  subsides,  'that  the  proof,  techin'  the 
wipin'  out  of  Rucker,  an'  the  consequent  widowhood 
of  his  relict,  is  at  present  some  meager.  Also,  I'm  bound 
to  add  that  Wolfville,  as  a  strictly  moral  camp,  ain't 
hungerin'  for  no  Enoch  Arden  games.  What's  your 
jedgement,  Doc?' 

"  Which  I  entertains  feelin's  sim'lar,'  returns  Peets. 
'We  shore  don't  want  to  go  ribbin'  up  no  sityooation 
where  one  lady  has  two  husbands.  Thar's  everything 
to  be  said  ag'inst  sech  a  solecism,  not  only  from  stand- 
p'ints  moral  but  economic.  Besides,  Red  Dog,  our 
hated  rival,  wouldn't  cease  to  throw  it  up.' 

"The  question  bein'  gen'ral  in  its  op'rations/  breaks  in 
Boggs  ag'in — he's  been  whisperin'  mighty  feverish  to 
Texas  Thompson — '  an',  speakin'  for  Texas  yere  as  well 
as  myse'f,  I'd  like  to  ask  the  Colonel,  now  he  casts  doubts 
on  a  revered  lady's  widowhood,  whatever  is  to  be  his 
ensooin*  move  ?  Also,  I  desires  to  be  heard  as  sayin'  that, 
offerin'  as  he  does  them  doubts  by  way  of  defence,  the 

14 


THE  RETURN  OF  RUCKER 

burden  of  proof  is  on  him.  It's  for  him  to  show  the 
lady's  married,  not  for  Wolfville  to  demonstrate  she's 
single.' 

"'Gents/  says  the  Colonel,  interruptin'  Enright  as 
he's  about  to  reply,  i  words  is  onnecessary.  I  accepts 
the  p'sition  of  Mister  Boggs,  as  bein'  sound  an*  solid  as  a 
sod  house.  All  I  asks  is  time.  I've  but  one  request — an* 
I  bases  it,  as  yeretofore  announced,  on  purely  moral 
grounds.  I  merely  asks  that  you  hold  Missis  Rucker  at 
bay,  while  I  takes  the  trail  of  that  former  husband,  an* 
runs  it  out.  Mebby  them  hostiles  don't  kill  him  none. 
Mebby  he  lives  in  safety,  while  gents  who  are  blame 
less  go  facin'  delights  which  of  right  belong  to  him 
alone.' 

"'How  long,'  asks  Enright,  'do  you-all  allow  it'll 
take  to  settle  the  life  or  death  of  Rucker?  You  can  see 
yourse'f,  Colonel,  thar's  a  limit  ought  to  go  with  this. 
It  would  be  preeposterous  to  assoome  that  you  are  to 
hold  the  affections  of  a  lady  in  abeyance,  while  you  go 
romancin'  about  in  the  hills  indefinite.' 

"'Six  months,'  returns  the  Colonel,  pleadin'ly,  'six 
little  months  is  all  I  ask.  If  I  don't  drive  this  yere 
absconder  into  the  open  by  then,  I'll  return  an'  accept 
my  joy  without  a  quiver.' 

"'Thar's  nothin'  to  it,  Sam!'  remarks  Peets,  an'  his 
manner  is  decisive;  'the  Colonel's  plumb  inside  his 
rights.  That  Rucker  is  dead  rests  wholly  on  the  feather- 
blown  bluff  of  some  onnamed  sport  in  Tucson.  At  the 
most,  sech  a  condition  furnishes  us  nothin'  more  cogent 
than  suspicions.  Shorely  bigamy  ought  not  to  be  com- 

15 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

mitted,  an*   the   good   repoote   of   Wolfville   resked  or 
trifled  away  on  argyooments  so  insecure.' 

'" You're  right,  Doc/  says  Enright  musin'ly.  'Which 
our  stand  bein'  taken,  it's  my  jedgement  the  Colonel 
better  begin  his  still  hunt  instanter,  an*  not  wait  ontil 
the  lady  becomes  privy  to  his  designs.  She  might  take 
them  doubts  about  her  widowhood  invidious/ 

"Enright's  notion  as  to  promptitoode  prevails,  an'  the 
Colonel  allows  he'll  go  trackin'  off  for  Rucker  that  very 
evenin'.  Tharupon  Boggs — he's  been  watchful  as  a 
lynx  throughout — ag'in  intervenes. 

'"As  gents  possessin'  collat'ral  interests,'  says  he, 
'Texas  an'  I'll  jest  about  accompany  the  Colonel  a 
whole  lot.' 

"'Which  you  ain't  intimatin'  that  I'd  break  my 
compact  none  about  returnin'  ? '  asks  the  Colonel,  his  eyes 
beginnin'  to  sparkle. 

"'Not  at  all!'  returns  Boggs.  'We're  goin'  along  in 
the  c'pacity  of  guardian  angels  to  you  personal.  Them 
Apaches  might  down  you;  an'  thar's  too  much  dependin' 
on  your  life  for  us  to  take  them  chances.' 

"While  the  ponies  is  bein'  saddled  an'  brought  up,  an' 
Black  Jack  is  fillin'  the  canteens,  Enright  draws  Peets 
aside. 

"'How  about  it,  Doc?'  he  whispers.  'Would  you- 
all  let  Dan  an'  Texas  both  go?' 

"'An'  why  not?'  asks  Peets. 

' '  This  why  not.  S'ppose,  for  any  conceiv'ble  reason, 
none  of  them  parties  comes  back?  You  don't  want  to 
forget  that  you  an'  me  are  the  next  two  chickens  on  the 

16 


THE  RETURN  OF  RUCKER 

roost.  How  do  you  know,  in  sech  events,  your  profession 
as  a  medicine  sharp,  or  my  years,  protects  us?  Re 
member,  Missis  Rucker  ain't  no  girl!' 

"'That's  all  right!'  returns  Peets,  confident  an*  firm. 
'  If  Dan  an*  Texas  an'  the  Colonel  fails  us,  as  a  last  resort 
we'll  emyoolate  the  ancient  Romans.  When  they  wanted 
wives,  they  jumped  an  outfit  called  the  Sabines,  an* 
mavericked  'em.  That's  what  we'll  do  if  forced.  When 
things  get  dealt  down  to  the  turn,  an'  thar's  nothin'  but 
you  an'  me  in  the  matrimonial  box,  we'll  nacherally  ride 
over  to  Red  Dog,  an'  rope  Missis  Rucker  up  a  he'pmeet 
from  among  that  hamlet's  deboshed  citizenry.  Thar's 
them  in  Red  Dog  who,  at  the  simple  mention,  would 
come  a-runnin'.' 

"It's  the  next  day  before  Missis  Rucker  learns  how 
the  Colonel,  with  Boggs  an'  Texas  coverin'  the  play,  has 
gone  rummagin'  off  after  the  deefaulter.  When  she 
hears  of  it,  she  searches  out  Enright  whar  he's  buyin' 
shirts  in  the  New  York  Store.  Faro  Nell  an'  Tucson 
Jennie  is  with  her,  an'  the  three  look  plenty  ominous  an' 
warm. 

"'Which  I  deemands  to  know,  Sam  Enright,'  says 
Missis  Rucker,  her  manner  mighty  trucyoolent,  'what 
you  an'  Doc  Peets  means  ? ' 

"'Yes,'  choruses  the  other  two;  'what  do  you-all 
mean  ? ' 

' '  Do  you  reckon  I'll  allow  you  two  sots  to  go  knockin' 
around  in  my  destinies,  like  blind  dogs  in  a  meat  shop  ? ' 
adds  Missis  Rucker. 

"My  dear  Madam,'  reemonstrates  Enright,  placatin' 

17 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

her;  'what  we  does  is  wholly  for  your  deefence.  Says 
we,  "Colonel,  you  can't  have  that  lady  ontil  you  proves 
concloosive  she's  a  single  footer.  She's  a  prize  worth 
strugglin'  for  an'  waitin'  for;  an',  if  you're  worthy  of  her, 
you  won't  begretch  the  time  an'  labor  to  prodooce  them 
proofs  that  her  former  husband  is  defunct."  The 
Colonel  struggles  ag'inst  this  yere  dictum,  for  his  love  is 
over-powerin'.  But  he  is  also  a  gent  of  reason,  so  at  last 
he  submits.' 

"'This  yere '11  do  for  a  sing-song,  Sam  Enright!'  re 
turns  Missis  Rucker — none  the  less  she's  softened  by 
them  encomiums — '  but  whyever  don't  the  Colonel  bid  me 
a  fond  adoo  ? ' 

"Which  he  couldn't  have  stood  it  none/  declar's 
Enright.  'He  says  so  himse'f.  "Let's  start  at  once!" 
is  his  observation.  "If  ever  I  sets  eyes  on  her  feechures, 
their  alloorin*  loveliness  will  carry  my  resolootion  off 
its  feet."  An*  so — the  Doc  an*  I  an'  Boggs  an'  Texas 
concurrin' — they  goes  prancin'  off  for  the  mountains, 
without  further  procrastinations.' 

'  'All  right,  Sam  Enright/  remarks  Missis  Rucker 
after  thinkin'  a  spell,  her  tones  full  of  meanin';  'since 
you-all  sees  fit  to  pick  up  my  hand  an'  play  it,  you'd 
shore  better  make  it  win.  You  can  gamble  the  limit,  if 
my  Colonel  don't  come  back  to  me  no  more,  I'll  jest  the 
same  know  what  to  do.' 

"'You  hears  her,  Doc!'  whispers  Enright;  an',  cool  an' 
steady  as  he  is,  he  can't  reepress  a  shudder. 

"However,  the  kyards  falls  as  they  should.  It  ain't 
three  weeks  before  the  Colonel,  with  Boggs  an'  Texas, 

18 


THE  RETURN  OF  RUCKER 

comes  ridin'  in,  whoopin'  an*  shoutin'  triumphant. 
Which  thar's  reason  in  their  whoops;  for  along  with  'em, 
his  feet  tied  onderneath  a  pony,  is  Rucker,  lookin'  as 
morose  as  a  captive  badger.  Thar's  an  Apache  ridin' 
along,  who's  out  to  offer  explanations  an'  take  the  Rucker 
pony  back  ag'in — the  same  bein'  his  chattle. 

"'Which  I  informs  this  aborigine,'  explains  Boggs,  in 
eloocidation  of  the  Apache  that  a- way,  'he's  been  har- 
borin'  a  criminal  in  this  yere  foogitive  Rucker.  I  tells 
him  he'll  play  in  luck  if  the  Great  Father  don't  send  his 
big  thunder  guns,  to  blow  him  an'  his  outfit  off  the  map. 
I  hands  him  these  fictions  for  fear,  if  once  he  grasps  what 
we  really  aims  to  do  with  pore  Rucker,  his  hoomanity 
gets  to  millin',  an'  he  turns  loose  in  his  blinded  way  anf 
gives  us  a  battle.' 

"'Well!  well!'  says  Texas  Thompson,  as  he  swings 
from  the  saddle,  an'  sa'nters  into  the  Red  Light  to  wash 
the  alkali  dust  from  his  throat;  'now  it's  over,  I'm  yere 
to  say  I  feels  a  lot  relieved.  It  ain't  over-statin'  the  case, 
gents,  when  I  announces  that  it's  the  first  time,  since 
ever  Missis  Rucker  puts  on  black  an'  gives  it  out  she's 
single,  I've  felt  my  old-time  se'f.' 

"As  to  the  Apache,  Enright  asshores  him  no  apologies 
is  necessary.  Meanwhile  the  Colonel — who's  sort  o* 
hysterical — heaps  that  savage  with  presents  to  the  y'ears. 
He  certainly  does  endow  that  painted  outcast  with  half 
the  New  York  Store! 

"'Whar  did  you-all  run  up  on  him,  Dan?'  asks  Peets, 
alloodin'  to  Rucker. 

Which  we  discovers  the  old  groundhawg,'  says  Boggs, 
19 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

'in  camp  with  them  Apaches;  an'  all  as  contented  as  a 
toad  onder  a  cabbage  leaf.  The  outfit  he's  with  warn't 
on  no  warpath.  It's  that  bunch  over  by  the  Cow  Springs, 
with  which  these  yere  Injuns  of  Rucker's  ain't  been  on 
speakin'  terms  for  moons,  that  dug  up  the  waraxe  last 
spring.  It's  my  belief  this  deceitful  Rucker  starts  them 
tales  about  his  death  himse'f.  It  would  be  jest  his  speed; 
for  he's  as  cunnin'  that  a-way  as  a  pet  fox.' 

"When  the  foogitive  is  reestored  to  Missis  Rucker, 
that  lady  never  says  a  word.  She  looks  sour  as  lemons 
though;  an'  the  glances  she  casts  at  Enright  an'  Peets 
borders  on  the  baleful. 

"'An'  I  ain't  above  remarkin',  Sam,'  observes  Peets  to 
Enright,  commentin'  on  them  glances,  'that — only  I 
knows  her  to  be  honest  an'  troo  an'  humane  at  heart — I 
figger  she'd  half-way  like  to  put  a  spider  in  our  biscuit, 
for  roundin'  Rucker  up.' 

"It's  the  day  followin'  that  exile's  return,  an',  from 
where  we  sits  in  the  Red  Light,  we  can  see  Rucker  set- 
tin'  the  table  for  supper,  rattlin'  cups,  an'  slammin' 
plates  about  permiscus,  an'  all  a  heap  egreegious  an'  re 
calcitrant. 

" '  Go  over,  Jack,'  says  Enright  to  Jack  Moore,  which 
latter  gent  acts  in  the  dooal  role  of  marshal,  an'  kettle- 
tender  for  the  stranglers — of  which  arm  of  Wolfville 
jestice,  Enright  is  chief — 'go  over,  an'  bring  that  miser 
able  old  cimarron  to  me.  I  want  to  give  him  warninV 

"In  a  moment  Jack  is  back  with  the  old  felon,  who 
looks  as  genial  as  a  sore-head  b'ar. 

'"See  yere,  Rucker!'  says  Enright,  his  tones  ringing 

20 


THE  RETURN  OF  RUCKER 

hard  an*  cold,  like  iron  on  ice;  'a  word  is  as  good  as  a 
thump  in  the  ribs  to  a  blind  mule.  Now  remember! 
If  ever  you-all  plays  the  domestic  trooant  in  the  footure, 
an'  go  abandonin*  them  feelicities  which  surrounds  you 
— an'  which  I  fears  you  are  far  from  appreciatin' — 
Wolfville  rides  forth  on  your  trail  in  a  body,  an*  swings 
an'  rattles  tharwith  ontil  you're  took.  Also  your  next 
return  to  camp  will  be  signalized  not  by  any  reestoration 
to  the  lovin'  embraces  of  a  wife  who  dotes  on  you  be 
yond  your  measly  deserts,  but  by  stringin'  you  up  to 
the  windmill  as  a  warnin'  to  husbands  with  tastes  for 
solitood  an*  travel,  an'  by  way  of  showin'  what  happens 
to  a  married  gent  who  persistently  omits  to  come  home. 
You  go  back  now  to  settin'  them  tables;  but,  as  you  do  so, 
b'ar  in  mind  that  the  Wolfville  eye  from  now  has  got  you 
focused.'" 


CHAPTER  III 

CHEROKEE  HALL,  GAMBLER 

WHICH  you-all,"  the  Old  Cattleman,  con 
tinued,  with  a  look  both  confidential  and 
confident,  "don't  have  to  be  told  by  now 
that  Cherokee  Hall's  a  gambler.  An'  while  a  gent 
might  do  better  than  gamble,  leastwise  better  for  himse'f, 
I  allers  allows  Cherokee  can't  he'p  it  none.  You  see 
he's  gaited  congen'tal  to  take  chances — a  sort  o'  pree- 
destined  kyard-sharp  from  the  jump. 

"Shore,  I  don't  find  no  fault  with  gamblers.  For 
that  matter  I  don't  find  no  fault  with  no  gent,  onless  he's 
connivin'  ag'in  me  pers'nal;  in  which  eevent  I  nacherally 
adopts  measures.  Moreover,  speakin'  of  gamblers, 
they're  a  mighty  guileless  bevy  of  folks.  Which  if  the 
onexpected  ever  happens,  an'  I'm  took  sudden  with  the 
notion  of  sallyin'  forth  on  the  trail  of  mankind,  to  deplete 
it  of  its  wealth  neefarious,  I'll  shore  adhere  to  gamblers 
as  my  reg'lar  prey.  As  to  business  men  proper,  tharby 
meanin'  store-keeps  an'  sim'lar  commercial  chiefs  of 
scouts,  I'll  pass  up  all  sech  chilled  steel  tarrapins  com 
plete. 

"No;  this  yere  preference  as  to  victims  ain't  doo  to  the 
sooperior  savey  of  business  folks ;  for  mere  wisdom,  them 
stoodents  of  trade  ain't  got  nothin'  on  your  kyard-sharps. 

22 


CHEROKEE  HALL,  GAMBLER 

But  where  it  comes  to  standin'  pat  concernin'  money, 
they've  got  mere  gamblers  that  a-way  left  standin'  side 
ways.  Business  men  an'  gamblers  is  onlike  each  other 
utter.  Their  money  attitoods  is  as  wide  apart  as  poetry 
an'  prose.  An'  for  this  yere  essenshul  reason:  At  his 
game,  when  a  gambler  gives,  he  don't  get;  an*  when 
he  gets,  he  don't  give.  Your  business  gent  goes  squan- 
derin'  through  the  chute  of  existence  the  other  way  about. 
He  never  gives  without  gettin';  an'  he  never  gets  without 
givin' — assoomin'  he's  on  the  level,  which  he  freequent 
ain't. 

"Gamblers  an'  business  men  runs  opp'site  from  soda 
to  hock.  One  takes  nothin'  but  chances;  the  other 
takes  everything  except.  A  business  man  never  lets  go 
one  hold  till  he's  got  another;  a  gambler  lets  go  all  holds, 
an'  trusts  to  out-luck  you  for  a  fresh  one.  Also,  thar's 
other  p'ints  of  sep'ration:  For  example,  a  gambler 
never  thinks  of  lendin'  you  money  ontil  you're  busted. 
Which  is  the  preecise  eepock  a  business  gent  won't  let 
you  have  a  splinter. 

"Go  weavin'  forth  an'  try  it,  if  you  nurses  doubts. 
Approach  a  kyard-sharp  for  a  stake,  an'  you  with  a 
bundle:  That  indignant  sport'll  onbosom  himse'f  in 
language  to  take  the  nap  off  your  coat.  What  he  says, 
you  bet!  will  be  more  decisive  than  encouragin' — hot, 
an'  plenty  explicit.  Come  around  when  you're  broke, 
an*  he'll  revive  your  faintin'  fortunes  with  half  his 
bankroll.  As  opposed  to  this,  whenever  you  goes  troopin' 
up  ag'inst  a  business  gent  to  neegotiate  a  borry,  you'll 
have  to  back  the  play  with  a  bale  of  secoorities  as  big  as  a 

23 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

roll  of  kyarpet.  He'll  want  to  have  'em  in  his  hand, 
too,  before  ever  he  permits  you  to  so  much  as  lay  b'ar 
your  errand. 

"Wharfore's  this  yere  difference?  You  don't  have 
to  dig  none  deep  for  causes:  Gamblers  by  nacher 
are  romantic;  a  business  gent  roosts  close  to  the  ground. 
One  is  'motional;  the  other's  as  hard  an'  pulseless  as  a 
iron  wedge.  The  former's  a  bird,  an'  gaily  spends  his 
onthinkin'  time  among  the  clouds;  the  latter  never  soars 
higher  than  he  can  lift  himse'f  on  wings  of  bricks  an' 
mortar. 

"Likewise  gamblers  is  more  excellent  as  company. 
When  I'm  onbuckled,  an'  romancin'  'round  for  socia 
bility  onp'isened  of  ulterior  designs,  I  shore  searches 
out  your  kyard-sharp  every  time.  Gettin'  sociable  with 
a  business  gent,  is  about  as  likely  a  enterprise  as  winnin' 
the  affections  of  a  burglar-proof  safe.  Thar's  a  time- 
lock  goes  with  his  friendship,  an'  even  he  himse'f  can't 
break  into  it  none  outside  of  business  hours. 

"Re-tracin'  our  trail  to  the  orig'nal  prop'sition,  I'm 
yere  to  say  that  of  all  in  Wolfville  it's  likely  Cherokee's 
the  most  onwary,  an'  him  whose  blind  side  lies  openest 
to  the  world.  Which  he's  certainly  the  most  ongyarded 
sport!  Plumb  honest  himse'f,  with  a  dealbox  as  straight 
as  if  laid  out  in  its  angles  by  one  of  them  civil  engineer 
mavericks,  the  last  he's  expectin'  is  the  double  cross. 

"An*  at  that,  if  some  evil-minded  party's  out  to  skin 
Cherokee,  to  go  settin'  traps  an*  diggin'  pitfalls  ag'in 
him  would  be  a  waste  of  time.  All  that  plotter  has  to 
do  to  start  Cherokee's  dinero  comin'  his  way,  is  set 

24 


CHEROKEE  HALL,  GAMBLER 

'round  an*  look  pensive  a  whole  lot.  Cherokee's  so 
sympathetic,  an*  carelessly  soft  of  heart,  that  to  pull  on 
a  expression  of  gloom  means,  for  the  cunnin'  wolf  who 
dons  it,  a  tenth  of  all  Cherokee's  got.  Which  if  he  was 
to  track  up  on  ten  people  in  succession,  all  of  'em  down 
an'  out,  it's  a  cinch  he'd  have  to  begin  life  anew. 

"While  not  exyooberant  like  Boggs,  Cherokee's  at 
heart  a  optimist  in  a  ondeemonstrative  way.  Likewise, 
as  I  says,  he's  enable  to  bear  other  people's  sorrows, 
an'  constrooes  'em,  when  vis'ble,  to  indicate  a  utter  lack 
of  coin.  Once  he  embraces  the  latter  idee,  the  end  is  on 
its  way;  life'll  be  a  failure  ontil  he's  reestored  the  affairs 
of  that  busted  prairie  dog  to  a  cash  basis. 

"An'  if  Cherokee  can't  stake  said  bankrupt  direct, 
the  latter  bein'  too  sens'tive  to  accept,  he'll  go  jumpin' 
sideways  at  him.  Some  folks  grows  haughty  exactly  as 
they  grows  poor;  they're  humble  only  when  they're  rich, 
an'  refooses  favors  onless  they  can  get  along  without  'em. 
Whenever  Cherokee  crosses  up  with  one  of  these  yere 
high-strung  parties,  he'plessly  in  the  hole,  he  goes  piroo- 
tin',  mighty  cautious,  round  the  flanks  of  his  pride,  in 
veigles  him  into  some  shore-thing  racket,  an'  lets  him 
win  himse'f  out.  Shore;  I  sees  him  do  it  more'n  once. 

"Gamblers  ain't  respectable,  you  says?  Well  I 
don't  say  they  be.  Which  I  will  remark,  however, 
that  when  we're  all  gathered  together  in  the  misty  be 
yond,  if  some  gent  who's  been  lined  up  for  eternal  jedg- 
ment,  can't  say  nothin'  for  himse'f  except  he's  respect 
able,  the  best  thing  he  can  do  is  pass  an'  offer  to  make 
it  a  jack. 

3  25 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"As  I  casts  the  eye  of  mem'ry  r'arward,  thar's  no 
more  pleasin'  than  that  of  Cherokee.  Planted 
over  back  of  his  faro-box,  Nell  up  ag'inst  his  right 
shoulder  lookin'  out  the  play,  he's  shore  a  benignant 
inflooence.  As  I  onderstands,  he's  foaled  orig'nal  in 
Indiana.  I  once  hears  some  jaundiced  trant'ler — 
which  I  quotes  this  verbal  pig-nut  prior — declar'  that 
Indiana  is  settled  by  folks  who  started  for  the  West  but 
lost  their  nerve.  Sech  bluffs  don't  incloode  Cherokee 
a  little  bit.  He's  weak  only  with  the  weak,  afraid  only  of 
the  timid.  While  he's  buffaloed  by  babes  an'  sucklin's 
easy,  the  war-song  of  the  bad  man  huntin'  trouble  is  as 
the  music  of  a  bridal  to  his  y'ears. 

"Likewise  Cherokee  has  views,  an*  when  he's  got  con 
fidence  in  his  aujience  he  voices  'em.  Once  over  to  the 
O.  K.  House  at  chuck  time,  some  one — Texas  I  reckons, 
or  mebby  now  it's  Boggs — starts  oratin'  about  ladies; 
an'  lets  on  that,  while  they're  plumb  excellent  in  a  heap 
of  entrancin*  reespecks,  you-all  can't  put  a  bet  on  'em, 
they  bein'  fitful  not  to  say  difoosive  in  their  fancies,  an' 
prone  to  shift  camp  on  a  gent  when  least  looked  for. 

"  Cherokee  combats  these  yere  doctrines.  'The  same 
not  bein'  my  experience,  none  whatever!'  says  he. 
Then  glancin'  at  Nell  who,  pretty  as  a  stack  of  bloos,  is 
mowin'  away  her  flapjacks  an'  salt-hoss  with  the  rest  of  us, 
he  continyoos.  'Ladies  is  a  heap  likelier  to  run  troo 
than  gents.  Which  I've  seen  a  lady  hock  her  frock  for 
the  gent  she  loves.  Also,  if  they  ever  does  quit  you,  they 
quits  you  only  in  prosperity.  Whoever  hears  of  a  lady 
abandonin'  a  party,  an'  him  down?  The  same  bein' 

26 


CHEROKEE  HALL,  GAMBLER 

the  time,  speakin'  general,  your  he-friends  seelects  to 
murmur  adios.' 

"'Well/  breaks  in  Texas,  'every  sport  to  his  own 
notion!  But  I  certainly  does  find  myse'f  in  wrong, 
when  I  weds  that  Laredo  wife  of  mine!  Which  the  too- 
multuous  hours  I  passes  in  my  capacity  as  a  husband, 
leaves  me  girl-shy  ever  since.' 

"'Jest  the  same,'  remarks  Boggs,  'ladies  is  mighty 
alloorin'.  The  Doc  thar' — lookin'  over  to  Peets — 're 
cites  some  stanzas,  about  seventh  drink-time  last  evenin', 
that  shore  matches  my  feelin's  exact: 

" '  Oh  woman  in  our  hour  of  ease, 
Oncertain,  coy  an'  hard  to  please; 
But  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace. 

"'Yes,  sir-ee!'  concloodes  Boggs,  dippin'  into  a  can 
of  air-tights,  'you  can  gamble  all  you're  worth  that  them's 
my  sent'ments.' 

"'Another  thing  about  ladies,'  resoomes  Cherokee, 
'they  shore  don't  go  'round  draggin'  their  verbal  lariats 
an'  tellin'  things.  Ladies  is  plenty  reticent  an'  moote 
about  what  they  knows.' 

["Some  of  'em,  however,' grumbles  Texas,  'is  plenty 
commoonicative  touchin'  what  they  don't  know.  It 
ain't  her  tellin'  things  of  which  she's  aware,  wharby  my 
Laredo  wife  drives  me  locoed;  it's  by  reelatin*  things 
of  which  she's  ignorant  complete.  Which  if  that  lady 
only  confines  herse'f  to  facts  them  times,  I'd  have  done 
stayed  an'  give  her  a  battle;  but  the  gent  don't  live  who's 
able  to  keep  his  feet  ag'in  torrents  of  invidious  fiction. 

27 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

That's  where  my  former  he'pmeet  puts  me  on  the  run. 
I  freely  confesses  that,  whenever  she  starts  exercisin* 
her  fancy  an'  her  tongue  at  one  an*  the  same  time,  I 
begins  hittin'  the  high  places  in  the  scenery,  plenty  fran 
tic,  in  efforts  at  a  get-away/ 

"Speakin'  of  Cherokee  possessin'  the  deep-sea  wis 
dom  of  a  cinnamon  b'ar  that  a- way,  why  he'll  even 
tackle  religion,  get  him  started  once.  It's  what  he  tosses 
off  all  casyooal  one  evenin',  that  more  or  less  serves  in 
framin'  up  what  you-all  might  call  my  theeol'gy.  Peets 
is  sayin'  that,  while  he's  eager  to  accept  the  idee  of  a 
footure  life,  his  argyooment  breaks  down  every  time  he 
seeks  to  convince  himse'f  tharof. 

"'I  don't  seem  to  connect  none,'  says  Peets;  'an'  so, 
while  sech  theeries  don't  make  no  hit  with  me,  I'm  con 
strained  to  regyard  Boot  Hill  as  the  final  finish.' 

"It's  yere  Cherokee  sets  in  a  reemonstrative  stack. 
'Doc,'  says  he,  'that's  because  you  faces  the  wrong  way. 
Now,  startin'  from  the  ondeniable  fact  that  you're  livin ' 
a  whole  lot,  instead  of  tryin'  to  prove  thar  is  a  yereafter, 
s'ppose  you  tries  to  prove  thar  ain't.  It's  my  notion 
you'll  find  yourse'f  more  up  ag'inst  it  even  than  you  are 
before.'  Then,  appearin'  like  he's  some  ashamed,  an' 
turnin'  to  Nell — who's  keepin'  tabs,  as  well  as  lookin' 
out  the  deal — he  shifts  the  subject  by  askin',  'Whatever 
does  that  last  jack  do?'" 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   LOOKING   OUT   OF   FARO    NELL 

FARO  NELL'S  full  partner  with  Cherokee  in  his 
bank,  an'  he  not  only  believes  in  her  jedgment 
but  in  her  luck.  Let  the  game  go  rompin* 
along  ag'inst  him  for  three  or  four  deals,  an*  he  never 
fails  to  call  Nell  in  behind  the  box.  Likewise,  the 
change  is  freequent  beneficial.  Many  a  time  an*  oft  she 
brings  home  to  the  checkrack  them  hundreds  Cherokee's 
lost  out.  Yoosual,  however,  he  does  the  dealin',  while 
Nell  holds  down  her  offishul  p'sition  on  the  lookout  stool. 
"  Cherokee  sets  a  heap  of  store  by  little  NelL  Nothin' 
'11  cloud  him  up  so  quick  as  ontoward  or  sultry  utter 
ances  where  she  is.  Nacherally,  no  se'f  respectin'  gent'll 
say  what  shocks  a  lady,  an'  the  lady  thar.  Shorely, 
no  one  who's  a  citizen  of  Wolfville  in  good  standin', 
'11  go  lettin'  his  conversation  get  stampeded  that  a- way, 
no  matter  what's  took  place.  With  chance-blown 
sports,  the  case  is  sometimes  otherwise.  But  they  soon 
learns  from  the  way  Cherokee  looks  as  well  as  what  he 
does — for  from  time  to  time  he's  forced  to  buffalo  a  few — 
that,  with  Nell  in  the  picture,  it's  a  heap  discreet  to  do 
their  talkin'  with  the  hobbles  on.  Not  that  these  yere 
reestrictions  works  a  hardship  neither.  In  emergencies 
thar's  still  the  street,  an*  any  gent  whose  fate  is  more'n 
he  can  b'ar  is  free  to  go  outside  an'  cuss. 

29 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"For  myse'f,  I  attaches  no  valyoo  to  that  street  fran 
chise,  bein'  ag'in  bad  language  at  all  times,  whatever 
the  indoocements.  Profanity  is  never  a  advantage,  an* 
sometimes  works  a  loss;  which  last  is  shown  in  the  busi 
ness  of  the  English  Dooke.  It's  the  verbal  short-comin's 
of  that  peer  which  sets  Nell's  s'picions  to  millin'. 
Cherokee  ?  He's  no  more  expectin'  that  titled  Briton  to 
turn  himse'f  loose  fraudyoolent,  than  for  Black  Jack  to 
ask  a  blessin'  or  break  forth  into  the  doxology.  Also, 
the  affair's  a  heap  to  Nell's  credit;  an'  it  shows  that,  when 
she's  lookin'  out,  she's  a  adjunct  not  wisely  to  be  dee- 
spised. 

"  Old  Monte  brings  news  of  that  patrician  first.  'An' 
that  nobleman/  says  he,  'is  threatenin'  Wolfville  with  a 
call.  He's  pesterin'  about  Tucson  now;  an',  you  hear 
your  Uncle  Monte!  what  he's  doin'  to  farobank  in  that 
meetrop'lis  would  fill  a  book!  Dookes,  that  a-way,  is 
certainly  high-rollers.' 

"The  Dooke  it  looks  like  exhausts  Tucson,  an'  then 
he  comes  bulgin'  into  Wolfville  per  schedyool.  Thar 
bein'  no  reason  in  partic'lar  to  have  it  in  for  dookes, 
the  camp  meets  him  plenty  cordial.  Enright  an'  Peets 
both  drinks  with  him,  an'  tells  him  to  browse  'round  in 
the  same  onmuzzled  way  he  would  in  England. 

"In  the  beginnin',  the  Dooke  gives  himse'f  up  to  askin' 
questions  concernin'  the  'Resources  of  Arizona.'  An' 
you  can  gamble  he  don't  ask  in  vain.  Which  if  he  keeps 
tabs  on  them  'Resources,'  as  Texas  an'  Boggs  an'  Tutt 
enoomerates  the  same,  the  complete  round-up's  shore 
calk'lated  to  make  him  dizzy.  Accordin'  to  them  statis- 

30 


THE  LOOKING  OUT  OF  FARO  NELL 

ticians,  Arizona,  as  a  land  flowin'  with  milk  an'  honey, 
has  Canaan  backed  plumb  off  the  map.  Canaan  ain't 
got  a  look-in!  The  Dooke,  however,  lets  on  he  likes  it, 
an'  goes  rummagin'  about,  buyin'  licker  an'  droppin' 
'  Hs,'  an'  all  mighty  aff 'ble  an'  permiscus. 

"He's  a  big,  good-lookin'  sport,  the  Dooke  is;  an' 
among  other  impedimenta,  as  the  Mexicans  say,  he's 
got  a  valet.  Whatever  a  gent  needs  of  a  valet  in  a  cow 
country  is  too  many  for  me,  but  the  camp  figgers  it's 
a  way  dookes  has,  an'  lets  it  go  at  that.  This  yere  valet 
puts  in  his  servile  time  standin'  'round,  an'  never  opens 
his  clamshell.  In  case  the  Dooke  makes  signals, 
however,  he  jumps  to  the  fervent  front  like  a  jack- 
rabbit. 

"It's  the  second  afternoon  when  the  Dooke  decides 
to  give  Cherokee's  game  a  whirl.  He  don't  make  no 
bones  about  it,  but  pulls  up  a  cha'r  as  condescendin' 
as  any  other  hoss  thief,  buys  a  couple  of  stacks  of  reds, 
an'  stands  blandly  in.  Nothin'  much  happens  for  meb- 
by  it's  a  hour.  The  luck  swings  to  an'  fro,  like  the 
pendyoolum  of  one  of  these  yere  Dutch  clocks;  now  the 
Dooke's  ahead,  now  he's  behind,  but  on  the  whole  he's 
loser. 

"Through  divers  an'  sundry  vicissitoods,  the  Dooke 
keeps  his  temper,  an'  it  ain't  ontil  his  swell  bet's  swept 
in  his  language  begins  to  get  hectic.  He's  in  for  the 
limit,  two  hundred  simoleons,  on  the  big  squar',  coppered. 
The  king  falls  to  win,  an'  nacherally  the  specyoolation 
goes  ag'inst  him.  Wharat  the  Dooke  onburdens  in  a 
mouthful  of  mighty  dire  oaths. 

31 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Cherokee  halts  the  deal,  his  thumb  on  the  face  of 
the  winnin'  king. 

"'Excoose  me,'  says  Cherokee,  eyein'  the  Dooke  a 
heap  icy  an*  implac'ble.  'Let  me  remark  in  passin' 
that,  while  I  don't  aim  to  lay  down  no  lingual  rooles  for 
the  British  nobility,  if  you-all  is  ag'in  guilty  of  sech  oral 
malefactions  in  the  presence  of  this  yere  young  lady, 
you'll  get  all  kyarved  up.  The  last  offender  has  to 
sw'ar  in  his  vote  'lection  day,  his  feachures  bein'  altered 
to  that  degree  he  loses  his  identity.  He  looks  so  plumb 
strange  an*  new  that  even  his  acquaintances  don't  know 
him  none.' 

"The  Dooke  breaks  into  profoose  'pologies.  His 
feelin's,  he  explains,  gets  their  bridle  off  inadvertent, 
an'  it  ain't  goin'  to  happen  no  more. 

"Ton  me  word,  it  woan't!'  says  the  Dooke. 

"'All  right!'  returns  Cherokee,  proceedin'  with  the 
turn.  'Which  I'd  have  sliced  you  into  half-apples  at 
once,  only  I  remembers  how  you're  English,  an'  a 
Dooke  besides,  an'  makes  allowances  for  a  nacheral 
ignorance.  But  don't  do  it  no  more.  Seven  lose,  nine 
win!' 

"The  Dooke  keeps  on  goin'  behind,  an*  when  the  next 
deal's  down  to  the  turn  his  last  red  chip  finds  its  way 
back  into  the  rack. 

"'James,'  says  he,  motionin'  to  his  valet  who's  hover- 
in'  in  the  background,  'give  me  me  check-book.' 

"The  valet  capers  for'ard  with  the  check-book,  an* 
one  of  them  new-fangled  pens  which  has  ink  up  its  sleeve. 
The  Dooke  gets  busy  an'  indites  a  check.  He  pauses 

32 


THE  LOOKING  OUT  OF  FARO  NELL 

about  the  middle,  an'  remarks  to  Cherokee  in  that  tired 
way  which  is  the  indoobitable  mark  of  bloo  blood, 
'Me  dear  sir,  this  game  is  trivial  to  the  verge  of  fatiguin'. 
Would  you  mind  advauncin'  the  limit  to  a  thousand  on 
doubles  an'  five  hundred  on  a  case?  Reelly,  I  don't 
know  but  I  might  take  some  interest  in  it  then.' 

"'No  sech  appeal,'  replies  Cherokee,  'is  ever  made  to 
me  in  vain.  In  order  that  Wolfville  may  seem  in  all 
respecks  like  London  to  you,  I  yereby  authorizes  you  to 
bet  'em  higher 'n  a  cat's  back.' 

"'Thanks,  aw'fly!'  says  the  Dooke. 

"The  Dooke  signs  the  check,  an'  starts  to  pass  it  over 
to  Cherokee.  Then  he  draws  it  back. 

"'No,'  says  he,  smilin'  like  a  p'lite  bob-cat,  'it  would 
be  too  presumptuous  to  ask  a  stranger  to  accept  me 
signachoor  for  so  large  a  sum.  This  is  for  one  thousand 
pounds — I  should  say  five  thousand  dollars;  I'll  send 
it  down  to  the  express  company.'  Then  to  the  valet: — 
'James,  take  this  to  the  Wells-Fargo  office.  They've 
had  instructions,  an'  will  give  you  gold  for  it.' 

"The  valet  bows  to  the  floor  as  he  ropes  onto  the  check. 
'Very  good,  sir!'  he  says,  an'  ambles  off. 

!"An'  now,'  observes  the  Dooke  to  Cherokee,  'if 
you'll  be  so  kind  as  to  oblige  me  with  five  thousand  dollars 
in  chips,  pendin'  me  valet's  return,  I  think  we  may 
continyoo.  The  cash  to  pay  for  them  will  be  here  pres 
ently — not  a  doubt  of  it!  Or,  if  by  any  accident — an* 
that's  hardly  to  be  thought  of  as  possible — a  mistake 
has  occurred  in  the  express  company's  instructions,  an' 
the  check  is  not  honored,  the  play  need  bind  no  one. 

33 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Win  or  lose,  it's  onderstood  that  onless  James  returns 
with  the  five  thousand,  the  play  don't  go.' 

"  Cherokee  never  dreams  of  hesitatin',  but  shoves  over 
five  thousand  in  yellow  chips — a  hundred  dollars  a  chip. 
The  Dooke  sweeps  'em  towards  him,  an'  the  deal 
begins. 

"It's  yere  an'  now  that  luck  shifts;  the  Dooke  com 
mences  to  win.  He's  pilin'  up  the  yellow  boys  in  stacks  of 
ten,  too — a  cool  thousand  on  a  kyard!  Likewise,  since 
he's  placin'  each  bet  so  it's  down  four  ways  at  once,  he's 
gettin'  veheement  action.  Everything's  the  Dooke 's 
like  a  avalanche,  an'  by  the  time  the  deal's  half  out, 
he's  ten  thousand  to  the  good  an'  still  a-goin*.  Also, 
he  ain't  so  thoroughbred  but  what  his  eyes  is  blazin' 
with  avarice.  Cherokee's  face  is  as  deevoid  of  expression 
as  the  wrong  side  of  a  tombstone.  The  deal  goes  on, 
the  stream  of  the  Dooke's  winnin's  flowin'  in  onchecked. 

"When  that  valet  goes  weavin'  off  to  the  Wells-Fargo 
folks,  packin'  the  Dooke's  five  thousand-dollar  check, 
Nell  slides  off  her  perch,  an'  motions  Boggs  to  take  her 
place.  No  one  minds;  she  does  the  same  thing  often  when 
she's  tired.  The  deal  proceeds,  Boggs  actin*  as  lookout, 
an'  Nell  sa'nters  forth  into  the  street. 

"The  Wells-Fargo  office  is  at  the  far  end  of  camp,  an' 
onless  the  valet's  a  antelope  it'll  be  twenty  minutes  before 
he's  doo  to  show  up.  The  Dooke's  skirmishin*  with  his 
eye  watchin',  an',  when  at  last  he  does  get  back,  sees 
him  the  moment  he  steps  in  the  door.  Black  Jack,  who's 
faced  so  he  can  tell,  avers  that  the  Dooke  signs  up  to  the 
valet  with  a  pecooliar  wink,  an'  that  tharupon  the  valet, 

34 


THE  LOOKING  OUT  OF  FARO  NELL 

like  the  wink  means  the  Dooke's  on  knee-deep  velvet 
that  a-way,  pulls  a  roll  of  money  from  his  jeans. 

"'I  beg  pardon,  sir/  says  the  valet;  "ere's  the  money, 
sir.  They  didn't  'ave  the  gold,  sir;  I  'opes  the  bills  '11  do.' 

"'Certainly!'  says  the  Dooke,  takin'  the  roll  plenty 
lofty;  'bills  or  gold,  it's  all  the  same.' 

"The  Dooke  runs  through  the  bundle — ten  five- 
hundred-dollar  notes,  an'  passes  it  over  to  Cherokee. 

"'That  makes  good/  says  he. 

"'Not  yet  it  don't!' 

"It's  Nell  who  interferes — Nell  who,  comin*  in  on  the 
heels  of  the  valet,  now  rounds  herse'f  up  at  Cherokee's 
shoulder.  As  she  takes  charge  of  the  sityooation,  she 
pushes  the  money  back  to  the  Dooke. 

"'Beg  pardon,  Miss!'  observes  the  Dooke;  an',  for 
all  his  bluff  front,  a  frightened  look  drifts  across  his  face. 
'Beg  pardon;  but  I  reely  don't  onderstand!' 

'"You  don't?'  repeats  Nell,  her  eye  some  scornful. 
Then  to  Cherokee:  'That  tin-horn  bandit  of  a  valet 
never  offers  no  check  to  the  Wells-Fargo  folks.  He  goes 
to  the  office,  an'  asks  a  fool  question  or  two;  but,  so  far 
from  cashin'  any  check,  that  worthless  docyooment's 
in  his  clothes  right  now.  I'll  bet  a  new  bunnet  this 
titled  horned-toad  ain't  got  a  centouse  with  the  express 
people.  He's  been  handin'  you  an'  me  the  old-thing.' 

"Oh,  I  see!'  says  Cherokee,  an'  the  glance  he  bestows 
upon  the  Dooke  is  the  kind  that  frequent  ushers  in  a 
fooneral.  'The  notion  ain't  so  bad,  neither!  This  yere 
noble  hold-up  writes  a  no-account  check,  an'  sends  it  out 
by  his  partner;  who  strolls  about,  goes  as  far  as  the  express 

35 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

offices  for  the  looks  of  the  thing  an*  to  kill  time  proper, 
an*  returns.  An*  the  idee's  this:  If  you  wins' — turnin' 
to  the  Dooke  direct — 'you  gives  him  the  office,  an*  he 
reports  the  check  cashed.  If  you're  behind,  you  signs 
him  up  to  that  effect.  Perceivin'  which,  he's  sorry,  but 
is  obleeged  to  say  the  express  people  ain't  received  no 
instructions  none  as  yet,  an'  turns  the  check  down.  Thar 
bein*  no  money  forth-comin',  accordin'  to  the  onderstand- 
in'  win  or  lose,  the  play  don't  go.  It's  a  beautiful 
scheme — a  scheme  where  my  only  chance  is  to  lose,  an' 
your  only  chance  is  to  win  I ' 

"'Me  dear  sir,'  chatters  the  Dooke,  'this  is  Greek  to 
me!  I  don't  onderstand  it  at  all!  James!' 

"Thar's  no  'James';  the  valet's  faded. 

;"An'  shows  his  sense!'  remarks  Boggs. 

"'You  don't  savey?'  repeats  Cherokee.  'All  you 
needs  is  a  five  thousand  dollar  roll,  a  English  accent, 
a  imitation  valet,  an'  a  blinded  come-on  like  me,  an* 
your  fortune's  made!  I've  been  imposed  upon  a  heap 
of  ways,  but  this  yere  wrinkle's  new  complete.  Come; 
set  in  those  chips!  While  you  can't  have  my  money, 
as  a  lesson  to  myse'f ,  seein'  how  close  you  comes  to  landin' 
me,  I'm  goin'  to  let  you  deepart  with  the  honors  of  war — 
your  life  and  your  bank-roll.' 

"Cherokee  counts  the  Dooke's  chips  back  into  the 
check-rack,  an  the  count  shows  he  has  the  game  beat 
for  clost  onto  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

"'You  come  mighty  near  makin'  a  killin',  Dooke!' 
remarks  Boggs,  who's  listenin'  an'  lookin'  on  a  heap  in 
terested. 

36 


THE  LOOKING  OUT  OF  FARO  NELL 

"The  Dooke  is  murmurin'  onder  his  breath  about 
how  he  'don't  onderstand,'  when  Cherokee  cuts  him 
short. 

"'Yere!'  exclaims  Cherokee;  'go  with  Jack  Moore 
to  the  Wells-Fargo  people;  an',  if  they  cashes  your  check, 
I'll  make  good  this  yere  fifteen  thousand  dollars  worth 
of  chips  twice  over.  But  thar's  this  proviso:  If  the 
Wells-Fargoes  don't  come  down,  you'll  shore  find  some 
one  shootin'  at  you  with  two  guns  at  once.' 

"Not  bein'  locoed,  the  Dooke  don't  take  Cherokee's 
proffer,  but  makes  a  gesture  like  he's  the  victim  of  mis- 
onderstandin's. 

"'You  better  hit  the  trail  a  lot!'  says  Enright  to  the 
Dooke,  as  that  member  of  the  House  of  Lords  hesitates 
about  the  Red  Light  door.  'For  while  this  yere's  a 
idle  sort  o'  afternoon,  an'  I  don't  feel  much  like  goin' 
through  the  labors  of  a  lynchin',  the  idee  of  swingin' 
off  a  nobleman  is  far  from  bein'  reepellant.  It's  my 
opinion,  should  some  member  of  the  stranglers  make  a 
motion  to  that  effect,  it'd  carry  yoonanimous.  As 
I  su'gests,  Dooke,  you'd  better  hit  the  trail!' 

"An'  havin'  hit  it,  don't  stop  goin',  neither!'  warns 
Jack  Moore.  'Keep  forgin'  right  ahead  ontil  you're 
miles  beyond  the  confines  of  this  camp.  The  game 
law's  out  on  dookes,  an'  if  you  stays  loiterin'  round,  some 
gent  who's  makin'  a  collection'll  take  to  bombardin' 
you  up  by  way  of  addin'  you  to  his  mooseyum.' 

"But  where  can  I  go?'  pleads  the  Dooke,  castin* 
a  despairin'  glance  about,  like  he's  seekin'  to  locate  that 
vanished  valet. 

37 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

'"Go  to  Red  Dog,'  breaks  in  Boggs;  'they'll  be 
tickled  to  death  to  see  you  over  thar.  If  you  beats  that 
gang  of  drunkards  out  of  anything,  you  can  keep  it. 
However,  I  don't  much  reckon  you  will,  for  as  shore- 
thing  artists  they're  cap'ble  of  goinj  some  themselves. 
Also,  if  you  starts  anything,  an'  them  veterans  in  crime 
ketches  you  at  it,  you're  a  gone  fawnskin.  Them  Red 
Dog  outcasts  ain't  so  leenient  as  Cherokee  yere/ 

"'However  do  you  come  to  think  of  it,  Nell?'  asks 
Cherokee  later.  '  That  wily  stranger,  with  his  little  check 
book,  would  have  got  by  me  like  runnin'  water!' 

"'In  my  experience,'  returns  Nell,  with  the  air  of  bein' 
a  hundred  years  old,  'bad  checks  an'  bad  manners  goes 
hand  in  hand.  I  knows  what  I  thinks  of  this  yere  Dooke's 
language,  an'  it  strikes  me  I'll  trail  out  after  that  valet 
an'  see  what  the  express  people  thinks  of  his  signachoor.' 

'"Well/  says  Cherokee,  snappin'  the  deck  in  the  box 
for  another  deal,  'I  ain't  as  a  roole  in  favor  of  encouragin' 
habits  of  s'picion  in  the  very  young;  but  in  the  present 
instance,  Nell,  since  it  leaves  you  an'  me  them  sev'ral 
thousand  kopecs  to  the  good,  it  would  shore  seem  far 
fetched  in  me  to  go  formyoolatin'  any  reproofs.  In 
short,  I  regyards  it  rather  as  a  season  for  congratyoola- 
tions;  in  which  sperit  I  yereby  apprises  our  honored  bar- 
keep  that  the  camp's  honin'  to  yoonite  in  a  libation  to 
your  health.  Jack,'  concloods  Cherokee,  motionin' 
to  Black  Jack,  'as  the  Ganymede  of  the  establishment 
the  rest  reemains  with  you." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  OFF-WHEELER  OFFENDS 

SPEAKIN'  of  Cherokee  holdin'  them  views  as  to 
a  footure  life,"  observed  the  Old  Cattleman, 
feeling  for  the  lemon  peel  in  his  glass,  "  I'm 
bound  to  say  that  personal  I  ain't  religious  none;  leastwise 
in  the  church  sense,  ownin'  no  talents  tharfor.  Also,  as  a 
roole,  I  prefers  doin'  good  to  doin'  right.  The  gent  who 
does  right  is  thinkin'  of  himse'f ;  the  gent  who  does  good 
is  thinkin'  of  others — which  is  a  heap  better  for  hooman- 
ity.  No,  I'm  not  religious;  an'  yet,  if  ever  I'm  inclined 
to  doubt  the  eff'cacy  of  religion,  them  changes  wrought 
in  the  Off- Wheeler  makes  said  doubts  reedic'lous. 

"Is  Wolfville  religious?  you  asks.  While  its  relig 
ious  feelin*  is  some  latent,  you  can  bet  your  pony  an' 
throw  the  saddle  in,  Wolfville  is  a  Christain  commoonity. 
I  makes  this  announcement  confident;  because,  when  a 
obtroosive  proflagate  comes  weavin'  over  from  Red  Dog, 
allowin'  he's  a  atheist,  Boggs  is  thar  with  all  four  hoofs 
to  call  his  bluff. 

"We're  playin'  poker  at  the  time,  Boggs  jugglin'  the 
deck.     '  An'  so, '  says  Boggs,  pausin'  in  mid-deal,  as  this 
pagan  person  decl'res  himse'f  as  sech,  *  you're  one  of  them 
cunnin'  tarrapins  who  don't  believe  in  nothin'?' 
,      "That's   whatever!'  retorts    the    Red    Dog  pagan, 

39 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

mighty  sprightly.  'Go  on  with  the  deal;  I  ain't  got  but 
three  kyards.' 

"  'The  same  bein'  all  you're  goin'  to  get,'  returns  Boggs, 
tossin'  the  deck  onto  the  table  an'  shovin'  back  his  cha'r. 
'Do  you-all  reckon  I'd  set  across  from  an  outcast  who 
denies  the  trooths  of  Holy  Writ?  Not  if  I  holds  four 
kings  an*  a  ace  perpetyooal.' 

"The  balance  of  the  outfit  follows  Boggs'  smoke; 
Cherokee  Hall  bars  the  onbeliever  at  faro-bank,  the  Red 
Light  refooses  him  licker,  an'  Missis  Rucker  gives  it  out 
cold  that,  if  she  only  receives  word  in  time,  she'd  have 
shore  pinched  down  on  his  grub.  In  less  space  then  it 
takes  to  rope  an'  hawgtie  a  steer,  he's  'ostracised/  as 
Doc  Peets  calls  it.  Which  that  ostracism  works,  too; 
an*  it  so  deepresses  the  Red  Dog  pagan  that,  next  mornin' 
at  sun-up,  he  pulls  his  subdooed  an'  ondeemonstrative 
freight.  Shore,  he  goes  back  to  Red  Dog;  where,  sur 
rounded  by  that  passel  of  Ishmaels  which  is  its  citizens, 
he  ondoubted  feels  as  much  at  home  as  a  drunkard  at 
a  barbecue. 

"It's  as  well  he  makes  that  get-away  plenty  prompt; 
for  the  idee  of  him  bein'  a  atheist,  gets  so  proned  into 
Boggs  that,  by  third  drink  time,  the  sight  of  him  would 
have  brought  on  a  religious  war.  Boggs  goes  so  far  as  to 
tell  Old  Man  Enright,  that,  in  his  pore,  sinful  estimation, 
it's  our  dooty  as  a  camp  to  paint  up  for  a  croosade  ag'in 
Red  Dog,  her  harborin'  sech  heathen.  Enright,  how 
ever,  allows  they're  protected  by  the  constitootion,  an' 
so  Boggs  simmers  down. 

"An'  I'm  yere  to  remark  that  the  subsequent  doin's 

40 


THE  OFF- WHEELER  OFFENDS 

of  this  pagan  person  jestifies  the  elevation  of  Wolfville's 
attitoode.  It  ain't  more'n  months  when  he  sticks  up 
the  stage  over  by  the  Whetstone  Springs,  an'  prounces 
on  the  mail-bag  an'  the  Wells-Fargo  box  felonious. 

"'You-all  takes  it  from  me/  says  Boggs,  when  he's 
told  of  the  coach  bein'  rustled,  '  them  atheists  is  all  hold 
ups  in  their  hearts.  Which  they'd  every  man  jack  of 
'em  be  out  workin'  the  trails  right  now,  only  thar  ain't 
mail-bags  an'  express  boxes  to  go  'round.' 

"From  the  stand  we  takes  in  the  case  of  this  yere  Red 
Dog  pagan,  you-all  sees  that,  onderneath  the  surface  like 
a  streak  of  ore,  Wolfville  is  rich  in  religious  feelin'.  It's 
dormant,  merely,  because  none  of  them  evangelical  en 
gineers  has  come  pirootin'  along,  to  sink  a  shaft  an' 
work  it. 

"For  one  brief  moment,  an'  one  only,  is  the  gospel 
torch  set  blazin'  in  our  midst.  An'  of  all  folks,  it's  the 
Off- Wheeler  who  lights  it  up!  That  it's  him  proves  as 
amazin'  as  a  cow  on  a  front  porch.  Doc  Peets  himse'f 
speaks  of  it  as  a  '  pheenomenon : '  an'  when  it  comes  to 
readin'  the  brands  on  a  pheenomenon,  an*  readin'  'em 
right,  I'll  back  Peets  ag'in  entire  Arizona.  I've  said 
freequent  that  he's  the  best  eddicated  scientist  in  the 
Territory,  an'  I  only  desires  to  add  at  this  eepock  that 
the  statement  goes  for  the  limit,  with  any  gent  who  feels 
inclined. 

"This  yere  Off- Wheeler  has   been   hankerin'  'round 

Wolfville,   mebby  it's  six  months,  before  he  takes  to 

jumpin'   sideways   religious   that   a-way.     His   days   is 

spent  vibratin'  between  the  Red  Light  an'  the  O.  K. 

4  41 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Restauraw,  with  now  an'  then  a  evenin'  at  the  dance  hall. 
Not  that  he  ever  shakes  a  festive  laig  at  the  latter  *  Temple 
of  Harmonious  Mirth/  as  Hamilton  is  fond  of  callin'  the 
same;  not  that  he  becomes  gala  in  any  polkas,  or  waxes 
circooitous  in  any  walses,  or  loosens  the  floor  boards  in 
any  quadrilles.  Is  he  too  old  ?  I  don't  reckon  now  he's 
overtook  thirty  years  as  yet;  but,  commonly,  he's  too 
seedate  to  dance,  which  is  to  say  he's  too  drunk.  Ine 
briated  gents  is  plenty  out  o'  place  in  a  quadrille,  though 
some  of  'em  frequent  holds  contrary  views.  As  to  the 
Off- Wheeler;  he  never  falls  into  no  sech  error.  His 
licker,  instead  of  renderin'  him  vivacious,  sort  o'  bogs 
him  down;  realizin'  which,  he  ain't  that  fool-minded  as  to 
go  lapsin'  into  the  dizzy  whirl  as  a  performer. 

"It's  from  Black  Jack,  with  whom  he's  more  or  less 
free  across  the  Red  Light  counter,  that  I  gleans  what 
little  I  saveys  concernin'  the  Off- Wheeler.  It  looks 
like  his  folks  don't  want  him  East  none;  an',  I  must  say, 
no  gent  who  makes  a  study  of  the  quantity  of  Old  Jordan 
he  consoomes,  is  obleeged  to  ask  the  reasons  why.  Old 
Monte,  for  years,  is  the  offishul  drunkard  of  Wolfville; 
an*  yet  that  Off-Wheeler  boy  comes  rollickin'  along, 
an'  wrests  the  bacchanalian  laurels  from  Old  Monte's 
brow,  as  easy  as  if  that  dipsomaniac  has  only  learned  the 
taste  of  licker  yesterday! 

"Of  course,  the  latter  sot  is  thar  with  his  yoosual 
excuses,  an'  p'ints  out  that  his  deebauches  is  necessarily 
interrupted,  him  havin'  to  sober  up  s'fficient  to  take 
out  the  stage.  The  Off- Wheeler,  he  says,  with  no  stage 
to  drive,  an'  no  mail-bag  an'  express  box  reespons'bilities, 

42 


THE  OFF-WHEELER  OFFENDS 

has  the  advantage.  Still  it's  the  expert  Wolfville  view, 
beginnin'  with  Dave  Tutt  an'  goin'  to  Enright,  that 
with  the  stage  coach  left  out  entire  Old  Monte  never 
stands  a  chance.  That  pore  old  profligate  wouldn't 
be  ace  high  ag'in  the  Off- Wheeler  in  nose-paint  competi 
tions.  Which  the  Mohave  desert  is  a  swamp  compared 
to  the  latter  artist,  he's  that  onslaked. 

"While  none  of  us  deems  ill  of  the  Off-Wheeler," 
continued  the  old  gentleman,  pouring  a  reflective  three 
fingers  of  his  favorite  refreshment,  "the  only  party  about 
the  camp  who  reely  loves  him  is  Black  Jack.  The 
trooth  is — him  bein'  commonly  dulled  by  drink  that  a-way 
— none  of  the  rest  of  us  gets  much  acquainted  with  him. 
Also,  from  a  bashful  habit  he  deevelops,  of  hoppin'  out 
the  door  every  time  a  gent  starts  some  triflin'  gun-play, 
the  belief  gains  ground  that  he's  'most  too  timid  for  Ari 
zona.  This  nacherally  don't  he'p  his  standin'  none,  in  a 
camp  where  the  only  aristocracy  is  the  aristocracy  of  nerve. 

"'The  trouble  with  him,  gents,'  explains  Jack,  at- 
temptin'  the  Off- Wheeler's  rescoo  as  to  that  question  of 
nerve,  'is  he's  gun-shy.  It's  because  he's  over-bred, 
him  comin'  from  a  bloo-blood  family.  You  notices  the 
same  thing  in  dogs  that's  bred  too  fine/ 

"  None  of  us  regyards  this  theery  of  Jack's  as  possessin' 
signif'cance,  or  provin'  anything  except  he's  so  foolish 
fond  of  the  Off-Wheeler  it  obscoores  his  jedgement. 

"  You  see  Jack  has  a  moosical  ear,  an'  the  Off- Wheeler 
can  shore  sing  a  whole  lot.  It's  his  singin'  which  biases 
Jack.  Evenin's,  when  trade  is  slack  at  the  Red  Light, 
Jack  an'  the  Off- Wheeler  frequent  finds  themselves 

43 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

alone.  Jack'll  be  lightin'  up  the  karosene  lamps,  or 
mebby  teeterin'  'round  turnin'  down  them  that  smokes. 
Feelin'  lonesome,  he'll  request  the  Off- Wheeler  to  sing 
Home,  Sweet  Home.  Which  that  victim  of  rum  never 
refooses,  but,  cl'arin'  his  valves  with  another  hooker, 
allers  cuts  loose. 

"The  strange  thing,  considerin'  how  Jack  himse'f 
goes  honin'  for  said  madrigal,  is  it's  shore  to  make  that 
drink-mixer  weep.  He's  a  mighty  sentimental  barkeep, 
Jack  is,  an',  every  time  the  Off- Wheeler  hands  him  Home, 
Sweet  Home,  he  shorely  does  shed  tears  profoose. 

"An'  yet  I  regyards  them  lamentations  as  to  Jack's 
credit;  the  more,  when  I  finds  out  he  never  has  no  home 
— as  he,  himse'f,  confesses  to  me  private.  I'm  sayin' 
how  them  childhood's  scenes  which  surrounds  his  yooth 
must  have  been  hotbeds  of  affectionate  peace,  to  make 
him  feel  like  he  does. 

"'That's  it!'  he  returns,  gulpin'  down  a  sob,  an' 
swabbin'  off  the  bar  hysterical;  'my  yooth  goes  onnursed 
of  any  home  outside  a  cow  camp.  Which  is  why  I 
howls  when  I  hears  that  ballad!  You  sports,  who've 
had  homes,  of  course  don't  mind.' 

"It's  in  Tucson  the  Off- Wheeler  is  took  religious  that 
time;  an'  the  very  way  he  comes  to  shift  his  blankets  to 
said  meetropolis,  looks  of  itse'f  like  the  movin'  of  the  hand 
of  Providence.  He  slides  over  to  Tucson  by  request  of 
Hamilton,  who  is  that  maddened  about  business  troubles 
— of  which  the  Off- Wheeler  is  the  onintentional  bug  onder 
the  chip — he  says  he's  afraid  of  what  may  ensoo  if  the 
Off- Wheeler  stays  in  sight. 

44 


THE  OFF-WHEELER  OFFENDS 

"'It's  not,  I  confess,  for  me,'  says  Hamilton,  'to  go 
forcin'  a  gent  to  migrate,  wharf  ore  I  puts  this  on  personal 
grounds  entire.  I  reequests  you,  merely  as  gent  to  gent, 
to  vamos  for  Tucson,  ontil  sech  times  as  I  gets  my  feel- 
in's  bedded  down.  It's  odds  on,  if  you-all  remains  where 
I  can  see  you,  an*  me  aggravated  the  way  I  be,  it'll  bring 
on  'motional  insanity,  onder  the  inflooence  of  which  I'll 
jest  about  shoot  you  up  a  lot.  Tharfore,  I  begs  as  a 
favor  that  you  jump  over  to  Tucson,  ontil  my  wounds 
is  healed  an'  this  yere  fit  wears  off/ 

"  No  one  blames  Hamilton  partic'lar  for  makin'  these 
suggestions,  for  he's  shore  suffered  a  heap.  Besides, 
he's  by  nacher  as  nervous  a  party  as  Boggs,  an'  as  much 
a  slave  to  the  emotions.  On  the  other  hand,  we  don't 
exactly  go  trackin'  'round  condemnin'  the  Off- Wheeler 
neither.  It's  askin'  too  much  of  a  gent,  an'  him  a  tender 
foot,  to  expect  him  to  stay  planted  where  most  likely 
he'll  get  all  shot  up,  over  issues  wharin  he  has  no  interest. 

"  At  that,  as  Texas  Thompson,  who  sort  o'  leans  to  the 
Hamilton  side,  says,  thar's  right  ways  an'  wrong  ways 
to  go  eelim'natin'  of  yourse'f  from  other  gents'  wars; 
an',  when  the  Off-Wheeler,  in  gettin'  out  from  between 
Doc  Holiday — who's  payin'  us  a  friendly  visit — an'  an 
offensive  sport  from  Prescott,  almost  t'ars  the  side  out 
o'  the  dance  hall,  he  somewhat  oversteps. 

"  Whatever  is  the  trouble  ?  It's  this  a-way :  It  begins 
by  the  Prescott  party,  in  a  mood  of  roode  exyooberance, 
tanglin'  up  his  spurs  in  the  trooseau  of  Holiday's  partner, 
who's  floatin'  by  in  a  Pocatello  reel.  Holiday,  with  that, 
starts  in  to  teach  the  Prescott  party  what's  due  a  lady 

45 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

with  his  six-shooter.  Shore;  Holiday  is  right!  The 
first  dooty  of  a  gent  is  to  rebooke  vulgarity. 

"Now  the  Off- Wheeler,  inadvertent,  is  in  the  line  of 
fire;  an',  when  the  lead  begins  to  sing,  he  takes  it  on  the 
run.  But  he  don't  make  for  the  front  door — which  is 
the  public's;  he  heads  for  the  orchestra's  private  door. 

"Moosicians  in  Arizona  is  some  sparse.  The  Dutch 
man  with  the  big  riddle,  Hamilton  freights  in  from  twelve 
hundred  miles  away,  an'  pays  five  hundred  dollars  for. 
In  a  sperit  of  proodence,  Hamilton  plants  his  high-priced 
troobadours  by  a  side  door,  so  they  can  skip  out  safe  in 
case  of  gun-playin'  an'  war-dancin'  on  the  floor.  His 
arrangements  would  have  been  perfect,  only  it  befalls 
that  when  Holiday  an'  the  Prescott  boor  hooks  up,  the 
Off- Wheeler,  in  his  frenzied  rush  for  the  orchestra's  pri 
vate  door,  mounts  an'  walks  down  the  virchuoso  with  the 
big  fiddle,  an'  leaves  'em  both  a  wreck.  That  invalyoo- 
able  big  fiddle  is  redooced  to  toothpicks!  No  wonder 
it  locoes  Hamilton! 

"'It's  not  the  Dutchman  I  bewails,'  says  Hamilton, 
*  but  wherever  am  I  to  get  another  doghouse  voylin  ? ' 

"While  the  Off- Wheeler  comes  in  for  a  modicum  of 
disrepoote  because  of  this  eepisode,  opinion  as  stated 
don't  all  run  one  way.  The  day  the  Off-Wheeler 
leaves,  as  Texas  Thompson  goes  to  criticism'  him  over 
the  layout  to  Cherokee,  Faro  Nell,  who's  on  the  lookout 
stool  where  she  belongs,  cuts  in  for  the  Off- Wheeler. 

"  'Which  I  don't  think/  says  Nell,takin'  the  words  out 
o'  Cherokee's  mouth,  'that  that  Off- Wheeler  boy  is 
none  to  blame.  The  Prescott  person  is  actin'  like  he's 

46 


THE  OFF- WHEELER  OFFENDS 

out  to  down  everybody  in  the  room — he's  shootin*  so 
difoose.  Jim  Hamilton's  no  business  to  go  to  ghost- 
dancinV 

"'Straighten  up  them  chips  on  the  eight/  observes 
Cherokee,  across  to  Texas. 

"Cherokee  aims  to  change  the  subject,  but  Nell  don't 
heed  him  more'n  if  he's  the  wind  that  blows. 

"'  You  bet,  I'll  shore  tell  Jim  Hamilton  what  I  thinks,' 
she  goes  on,  pickin'  up  a  stack  Texas  has  jest  lost 
on  the  trey;  'an'  so'll  Missis  Rucker.  The  idee  of 
him  trackin'  'round  permiscus,  about  a  measly  old 
fiddle!' 

"Texas  an'  Cherokee  says  nothin';  it  ain't  lucky  to  go 
contradictin'  Nell. 

"The  Off- Wheeler's  been  in  Tucson  two  weeks,  an' 
none  of  us  is  thinkin'  of  him  partic'lar,  when  of  a  sudden 
Old  Monte  brings  the  word.  Which  we-all  sees  thar's 
something  in  the  wind,  long  before  the  stage  reaches  town, 
from  the  fuss  the  old  reprobate  is  raisin*.  He's  pourin' 
the  leather  into  the  six  horses,  an'  sendin'  'em  to  beat  four 
of  a  kind. 

" '  Mebby  it's  a  lady/  says  Boggs,  watchin'  the  nearin' 
dust-cloud,  an'  givin'  a  extra  cock  to  his  Chihuahua  hat. 
'That  bond  slave  of  alcohol  allers  keeps  his  team  up 
ag'inst  the  bit,  when  thar's  a  lady  aboard.' 

"But  it  ain't  no  lady;  thar's  nobody  in  the  stage  save 
sev'ral  pale  he-towerists,  who  seems  pleased  to  get  shet 
of  sech  drivin'. 

"It's  in  the  Red  Light,  where  he  goes  to  rinse  the  thirst 
out  o'  his  mouth,  Old  Monte  onfurls  what's  happened. 

47 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Also,  he's  most  onfeelin'  slow  gettin'  started.  Now 
he's  with  us,  his  headlong  dust-raisin'  haste  disappears ; 
he  measures  out  his  forty  drops  that  deeliberate,  thar 
ain't  one  of  us  don't  eetch  to  beat  in  his  head  with  a  gun. 
Boggs,  who's  as  inquisitive  as  a  pet  b'ar,  at  last  can 
no  longer  reestrain  his  cur'osity. 

"'Smoke  up  thar,  you  old  prairie  dog!'  he  roars. 
'  Is  it  a  killin'  ?  Does  any  of  them  Tucson  horned  toads 
get  beefed?' 

"'Beefed?'  repeats  Old  Monte,  contempchoous, 
settin'  down  his  glass;  'it's  a  mighty  sight  awfuller  than 
that!  The  Off- Wheeler's  j'ined  the  church.' 

"'What!'  shouts  Boggs. 

"'Moreover/  goes  on  Old  Monte,  after  the  informa 
tion  trickles  into  us,  'he's  plottin'  to  come  down  on  this 
devoted  outfit  all  spraddled  out,  my  next  trip  back  from 
Tucson,  an'  preach  a  heap.  He  allows  he'll  show  us  our 
sins  as  in  a  lookin '-glass;  which  them's  his  words, 
gents!  "Wolfville  experiences  me  at  my  worst;  she 
shall  now  behold  me  at  my  best!"  says  he.' 

"'So  he's  goin'to  preach!'  exclaims  Texas  Thompson. 
'Well,  if  that  don't  beat  a  royal  flush!  Whatever  is 
this  yere  Off- Wheeler  party  thinkin'  of  ?  Does  he  reckon 
he's  goin'  to  tree  the  camp  in  this  onlicensed  manner, 
an'  go  promulgatin'  doctrines?' 

"'An'  why  not?'  demands  Boggs,  who's  pleased  by 
excitement.  'Ain't  the  Off- Wheeler  a  free  immoral 
agent?  Which  if  this  sheep  that  was  lost  an'  is  found 
ag'in — as  parson  Cartwright  back  in  Missouri  used  to 
say — desires  to  be  heard  theological,  it's  up  to  us,  in- 

48 


THE  OFF- WHEELER  OFFENDS 

stead  of  obstructin'  the  play,  to  sort  o'  cosset  it  along. 
I'm  yere  to  say  I'm  with  him  for  them  services.' 

"It's  mighty  likely  Texas  would  have  locked  horns 
with  Boggs;  but  seem'  that  Enright  an'  Peets,  with  Dave 
Tutt  trailin',  expresses  themselves  sim'lar  he  waives  it. 

"Black  Jack,  when  he  hears,  is  that  delighted  he 
forgets  his  dooties  as  barkeep.  Bein'  reeproved  by  Peets, 
he  slams  all  his  bottles  on  the  bar,  utterly  reckless 

"'It's  on  the  house,  gents!'  he  says.  'He'p  your 
selves  hearty!  Which  I  knowed  the  Off- Wheeler  would 
make  you-all  coyotes  set  up,  once  he  struck  his  gait!' 

"Old  Monte,  who  don't  propose  to  get  lost  in  the 
shuffle,  takes  up  in  deetail  how  the  Off- Wheeler  becomes 
religious. 

"'This  is  how  it  falls  in,  gents,'  he  explains.  'Thar's 
a  gospel  sharp  got  a  tent  over  thar,  an*  the  way  he's 
holdin'  forth  is  shore  prodigious.  Not  that  I  goes  ma- 
raudin'  'round  his  game  none  myse'f,  fearin'  he  might 
get  his  runnin'  iron  onto  me.  Religion  is  ondoubted 
all  right;  but  it  wouldn't  blend  happ'ly  with  stage  drivin'. 
Bein'  younger,  an'  I  might  add  drunker,  this  Off-Wheeler 
ain't  so  discreet  as  me;  an'  he  takes  to  idlin'  'round  the 
meetin's,  till,  bang!  one  evenin'  when  he's  off  his  gyard, 
he's  roped  an'  throwed  an'  branded  into  life  everlastin' 
like  crackin'  off  a  Colt's-45.' 

"'Does  he  tell  you  this  himse'f  ?'  asks  Enright. 

"'It's  the  barkeep  at  the  Oriental.  He  puts  it  up  I 
ought  to  ride  over  to  that  gospel  herd,  an'  cut  the  Off- 
Wheeler  out  a  lot.  I'm  yere  to  say  I  don't  see  eevents 
in  that  light.  Some  of  the  biggest  hostiles  in  Tucson 

49 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

is  at  them  meetings  on  their  knees,  an*  at  the  least  sign  of 
me  tamperin'  with  the  Off- Wheeler,  or  tryin'  to  snake  the 
game,  they'd  have  took  enough  of  my  ha'r  to  stuff  a 
cushion  for  the  pulpit/ 

"'Still,  you  converses  with  the  Off- Wheeler?'  inter 
rogates  Peets. 

"'Nothin'  shorer!'  says  Old  Monte.  'But,  say! 
I  can  tell  they  has  him  cinched  with  the  first  word  I  He 
does  all  the  talkin',  calls  me  a  lost  soul  personal,  gives  it 
out  that  he  himse'f  is  a  brand  snatched  from  the  burnin', 
an'  final  defies  every  gent,  not  of  his  way  of  thinkin', 
as  a  emissary  of  evil.  Seein'  he's  plumb  beyond  control, 
I  goes  to  the  diskyard.  Reply  was  useless,  gents,'  con- 
tinyoos  Old  Monte,  thinkin'  mebby  he  needs  defence. 
'It  would  have  been  like  talkin'  to  a  sand  storm — the 
Off- Wheeler's  took  that  bad!  Besides  he  ain't  so  tame 
as  he  was.  His  air  is  grown  brash  an'  cocky;  an'  he 
might  resent  me  tryin'  to  play  his  hand.  Which  I've 
seen  these  yere  reevivals  in  the  states;  an'  thar's  no  fore- 
tellin'  what  a  gent  will  do,  once  he's  filled  with  grace.' 

"'Whatever,'  says  Dave  Tutt,  speakin'  gen'ral,  'do 
you  reckon  this  Off- Wheeler  strikes  when  he  goes  glancin' 
off  into  religion  this  a-way?' 

"'Mebby,'  observes  Boggs,  'it's  the  change  of  licker. 
That  Tucson  nose-paint  would  make  a  jackrabbit  insult 
a  coyote  to  his  face.' 

'"That's  not  it!'  says  Old  Monte,  emphatic;  'the 
Off- Wheeler's  as  cold  sober  as  a  fish.' 

'"Wouldn't  that  of  itse'f  explain  it?'  asks  Texas 
Thompson,  appealin'  to  Peets  in  his  role  of  scientist. 

50 


THE  OFF-WHEELER  OFFENDS 

'Don't  you  figger,  Doc,  that  stoppin'  his  Old  Jordan  on- 
balances  his  mind?' 

"Peets  snaps  his  fingers  at  sech  surmises,  as  much  too 
farfetched.  In  the  end  we-all  settles  down  to  wait; 
by  what  Old  Monte  says,  the  Off- Wheeler's  due  to  come 
prancin'  along  poco  tiempo,  an'  then  the  myst'ry  envel- 
opin*  his  doin's  should  begin  to  cl'ar  up." 


CHAPTER  VI 


DURIN'  the  three  days  prior  to  the  Off- Wheeler 
showin'  up,  the  camp  don't  talk  of  nothin'  else. 
He  supplants  faro-bank  an'  yoosurps  whiskey 
in  the  public  mind.     Enright  an*  Peets  allows  that  his 
holdin'  services  is  a  good  scheme,  as  calk'lated  to  give 
'em  a  splendid  impression  of  us  East. 

"Besides/  adds  Enright,  'thar's  a  roomer  that  Red 
Dog  is  out  to  build  a  chapel.  This'll  show  how,  in  mat 
ters  churchly  as  in  all  things  else,  Wolfville  has  simply 
got  that  low-flung  hamlet  beat  both  ways  from  the  jack.' 

"When  the  day  arrives,  Boggs  hints  'round  that  a 
healthy  notion  would  be  to  saddle  up,  an'  meet  the  Off- 
Wheeler  with  a  friendly  foosilade  from  our  guns,  by  way 
of  welcome.  Enright  shakes  his  head. 

" 'It  might  give  the  boy  a  skeer,'  he  says,  'an'  stampede 
him  to  the  p'int  where  he  abandons  his  idee  of  preachin'. 
It's  better  to  let  him  hit  camp,  as  though  his  gettin'  re 
ligion's  as  commonplace  as  ground-owls.' 

"Nacherally  we  takes  our  hunch  from  Enright,  an' 
when  the  stage  pulls  up  at  the  post-office,  an'  the  Off- 
Wheeler  eemerges  tharfrom,  we  confines  our  demonstra 
tions  to  sayin'  'Howdy!'  He  says  'Howdy!'  back,  an* 
heads  for  Missis  Rucker's. 

52 


WOLFVILLE'S  REVIVAL 

"  Presently  Rucker  comes  across  to  say  the  Off- Wheeler 
wants  to  see  Enright.  Then  Jack  Moore  is  sent  for; 
an'  a  little  later  Jack  tacks  up  a  notice  in  the  Red  Light, 
settin'  forth  thar'll  be  church  next  day  at  two  P.  M. 

"' That's  the  talk!'  cries  Black  Jack,  readin'  the 
notice  aloud,  some  enthoosiastic.  'The  Off- Wheeler's 
no  slouch!  He's  a  wolf,  an'  it's  his  night  to  howl!' 

"When  Enright  rej'ines  us,  he's  smilin*  wide  an* 
bland.  'Nothin'  could  be  more  sincere  than  that  yooth/ 
he  announces.  'I  asks  him  whatever  is  his  little  game. 
He  explains  that,  after  holdin'  church  among  us  this  time, 
he's  goin'  chargin'  back  to  the  States  to  study  preachin* 
as  a  reg'lar  play,  an'  get  himse'f  ordained  a  shore-enough 
divine.  After  which  he  figgers  on  settlin'  down  among  us, 
an'  ridin'  herd  on  our  souls.  Of  course  I  tells  him  that 
what  he  plans  is  bound  to  do  him  proud;  an'  that  Wolf- 
ville  will  be  ever  thar,  for  its  bank  roll,  to  back  his 
game/ 

"Hearin'  of  the  comin'  meetin',  the  controllin'  in- 
flooence  of  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House  offers  that  edifice. 
Enright,  who's  took  to  managin'  for  the  Off- Wheeler, 
deeclines  with  thanks.  He  lets  on  that  the  warehouse, 
belongin'  to  the  New  York  Store,  will  do  better. 
"It's  smaller,  an'  tharfore  cosier,'  says  Enright. 

"Boggs  an'  Black  Jack  now  takes  hold  strong.  They 
rolls  in  a  drygoods  box,  an'  spreads  a  red  Navajo  blanket 
over  it — the  same  makin'  a  gorgeous  pulpit.  They  totes 
cha'rs  from  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  ontil  you  can't  rest. 
As  a  final  break  they  packs  over  the  pianny  from  the 
dance  hall — Hamilton,  who's  gone  into  the  racket  to 

53 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

the  saddle  girths,  he'pin'.  After  that  they  rests  from 
their  labors. 

"Texas  Thompson  evinces  surprise  at  Hamilton 
fomentin'  this  preachin',  an'  him  wantin*  to  go  gunnin' 
for  the  Off- Wheeler,  not  three  weeks  before. 

"'You  see/  says  Hamilton,  in  explanation,  'it's  me 
chasin'  him  out  o'  town,  that  a-way,  which  now  impels 
me  to  give  him  a  boost.  I'm  preyed  on  by  the  feelin' 
that  I'm  onjest  to  the  Off- Wheeler.  As  makin'  amends, 
I  turns  in  with  moosicians  an'  pianny  an*  cha'rs,  an* 
strives  to  rib  up  these  yere  services,  so's  the  same'll 
be  a  howlin'  vict'ry.  Even  if  the  Off- Wheeler  does  trom- 
ple  down  my  priceless  dog-house  voylin,  I'm  no  gent  to 
b'ar  malice;  an*  I  acts  accordin'!' 

"For  one  hour  before  the  services  begins,  Black  Jack 
an'  Hamilton  shets  off  on  the  sale  of  snake-jooce  at  the 
Red  Light  an'  the  dance  hall  bars.  It's  Hamilton  who 
proposes,  temp'rarily,  to  thus  close  down  these  em- 
poriyums,  Jack  at  the  go-off  hesitatin'. 

"'Not  from  no  low  lust  of  gain/  says  Jack;  'but  I  ain't 
none  certain  a  few  fingers  of  Old  Jordan,  distributed 
round  in  the  flock,  won't  make  it  easier  for  the  Off- 
Wheeler.  It  might  render  'em  soft  an'  good-nachered, 
an'  not  so  prone  to  plant  their  moccasins  an'  hold  back.' 

"Hamilton  possesses  contrary  beliefs.  'Let's  send 
the  outfit  in  on  a  cold  collar/  urges  Hamilton.  'Then 
they  can  protect  themselves;  an'  afterward,  if  any  of 
'em  is  took  religious,  they  can't  blame  no  one  but  them 
selves.  Moreover,  they  won't  be  so  apt  to  backslide. 
It's  safer  for  the  repyootation  of  the  Off- Wheeler  as  a 

54 


WOLFVILLE'S  REVIVAL 

divine.  It  might  be  remembered  ag'in  him  invidious, 
if  he  brings  some  party  to  his  knees,  an'  later  that  convert 
goes  romancin'  off  ag'in  to  eat  sinful  husks  an*  draff 
with  the  swine.' 

"Jack  is  so  carried  off  his  feet  by  this,  he  not  only 
coincides  yoonanimous,  but  declar's  on  the  quiet  to  Dave 
Tutt  that  thar's  depths  in  Hamilton's  intellects  hitherto 
onfathomed. 

"At  church  time  Boggs  app'ints  himse'f  corral  boss, 
an'  shows  the  folks  their  seats.  Wolfville's  best  element 
turns  out  in  a  body.  Tucson  Jennie,  with  her  infant 
Enright  Peets  Tutt,  has  a  front  cha'r  by  the  side  of  Dave; 
Missis  Rucker,  bringin'  Rucker — the  latter  lookin'  sub- 
dooed,  but  sore  about  bein'  snatched  from  his  refutch 
among  the  Apaches — is  present;  while  scattered  yere  an' 
thar  is  Cherokee,  an'  Faro  Nell,  an'  Texas  Thompson, 
an'  the  rest.  Black  Jack  an'  Hamilton,  actin'  as  look 
outs  an'  case-keepers  to  Boggs  reespective,  takes  seats  in 
the  r'ar. 

"When  everything  is  lined  up,  the  Off- Wheeler, 
packin'  a  giant  Bible  onder  his  arm,  shows  in  the  door. 
Followed  by  Enright  an'  Peets,  he  p'rades  up  the  middle 
aisle  an'  goes  into  camp,  all  dignified,  back  of  the  dry- 
goods  box  pulpit  with  its  Navajo  blanket  cover.  He 
deeposits  the  scriptures  in  the  middle  of  the  red  blanket 
an'  then  turns  to  Enright. 

"Nacherally,  while  these  yere  various  an'  sundry 
steps  is  bein'  took,  we  sizes  up  the  Off- Wheeler.  He 
shore  does  appear  reegenerated  a  whole  lot,  though  most 
likely  a  heap  of  that  arises  from  gettin'  the  whiskey  out 

55 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

o'  him.  All  the  same  he  wears  a  game,  noble  look, 
as  though  them  draughts  of  troo  religion  has  been  like 
the  milk  of  mountain  lions  to  him. 

" '  When  you  all  recalls  what  he  was/  says  Hamilton, 
leanin'  over  to  whisper  in  my  y'ear,  'an'  then  sees  what 
he  is,  it  jest  does  a  sport  good  to  look  at  him!' 

"As  the  Off- Wheeler  indulges  in  that  preelim'nary 
glance  at  Enright,  Wolfville's  old  warchief  gets  up.  '  No 
one/  observes  Enright,  his  eye  rovin'  mildly  about  the 
room,  'will  misonderstand  me  bein'  yere.  Brother 
Hawkins,  formerly  an*  favorably  known  among  us  as  the 
Off- Wheeler,  has  asked  me  to  preeside,  an*  I  gladly  yields ; 
the  more  cheerful,  since  Brother  Peets  consents  to 
support  my  ignorance  by  his  urbane  countenance  an* 
sagacious  counsel.  Should  I  strike  a  quicksand  crossing 
an*  seem  at  any  time  in  peril  of  boggin'  down,  Brother 
Peets  will  be  on  hand  to  pull  me  through.  These  ser 
vices' — yere  Enright  consults  a  kyard,  whereon  the  rootine 
of  the  proceedings  has  been  framed  up  in  the  nacher  of 
a  programme — 'will  commence  by  that  celebrated  canta- 
trice,  Sister  Sophy  Silverthorne  of  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry 
House,  leadin'  us  in  Rock  of  Ages.' 

"As  Enright  resoomes  his  cha'r,  the  whole  band  of  us — 
Hamilton's  pianny  player,  seated  at  that  instrooment, 
beatin'  out  the  'companyment — onder  the  lead  of  Miss 
Silverthorne,  lifts  up  our  voices  in  the  hymn.  Boggs 
throws  his  heart  into  it  to  that  reesoundin'  extent,  that 
Red  Dog  sends  over  a  rum-soaked  miscreant  to  ask 
what's  wrong.  No;  you  can  go  your  ultimate  chip  this 
insultin'  emissary  don't  deevelop  his  real  mission  none. 

56 


WOLFVILLE'S  REVIVAL 

He  comes  projectin'  'round  the  door  towards  the  finish; 
but  we  never  do  know  what  brings  him  thar  for  over  a 
month.  Bogg's  language  is  sech  as  to  kill  an  acre  of 
grass  when  he  learns;  but  it's  too  late  to  get  reesentful 
action. 

"On  the  hocks  of  that  Rock  of  Ages  hymn,  the  Off- 
Wheeler  announces  he'll  open  the  deal  with  pray'r. 
We  sinks  our  heads  a  heap  deevout,  for  we  wants  to  show 
we're  wise  to  the  proper  caper.  The  Off- Wheeler 
begins  to  pour  forth.  He  prays  for  Wolfville,  for  Arizona, 
an'  at  last  incloods  mankind  at  large  in  his  orisons.  I 
never  does  behold  a  more  creditable  seige  of  the  throne, 
since  last  I  sees  the  Cumberland. 

"Also,  I  holds  now  as  I  holds  then  that  if  the  Off- 
Wheeler  had  stuck  to  glitterin'  gen'ralities,  the  meetin' 
would  have  gone  from  soda  to  hock  without  a  murmur 
of  discord.  Mind  you,  I  don't  say  that  even  as  the 
kyards  come  out  o'  the  box,  it  ain't  for  the  best. 

"After  exhaustin'  the  sityooation,  along  what  Peets 
calls  'broader  lines,'  the  Off- Wheeler  begins  petitionin' 
for  people  speshul.  As  a  starter,  he  hurls  himse'f  loose 
for  Hamilton;  an'  the  way  he  lays  open  the  shortcomin's 
of  that  onforchoonate  gent  is  shore  s'fficient  to  make  a 
graven  image  ketch  its  breath.  The  Off- Wheeler  never 
misses  a  trick.  On  he  surges,  t'arin'  away  at  pore  Hamil 
ton  without  reference  to  the  weave  of  the  cloth. 

"Although  it's  in  the  middle  of  the  pray'r,  where  the 
current's  swiftest  an'  the  channel  deepest,  Hamilton 
struggles  to  his  feet. 

"I  rises  to  a  question  of  privilege,'  says  Hamilton, 
5  57 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

addressin'    Enright,    who's    contemplatin'   him    mighty 
baleful. 

* '  Brother  Hamilton  will  state  his  question  of  privilege,' 
responds  Enright,  beatin'  on  the  pulpit  with  the  butt 
of  his  sixshooter,  him  havin'  no  reg'lar  gavel. 

"'Which  I  objects/  says  Hamilton,  'to  statements 
concernin'  myse'f  personal,  as  calk'lated  to  queer  me  on 
high.  They  exceeds  the  limit;  I  asks  the  protection  of 
the  cha'r.' 

'"The  cha'r/  retorts  Enright,  'passin*  on  Brother 
Hamilton's  objections,  over-rooles  the  same.  Thar  is 
no  limit  to  pray'r.  Every  gent,  addressin'  the  Infinite, 
does  so  with  the  bridle  off.' 

"'Let  the  cha'r  b'ar  with  me  for  one  further  word/ 
returns  Hamilton,  turnin'  sort  o'  ugly.  'I  yields  to  the 
tyrannical  dictum  of  the  cha'r.  At  the  same  time  I 
desires  to  state  that,  although  I  not  only  assists  in  pro- 
motin*  this  meetin',  but  appears  yere  in  a  lib'ral  if  not  a 
contrite  sperit,  I  shall  now  hold  the  Off- Wheeler  respons 
ible  with  a  gun,  as  soon  as  the  contreebution  box  is 
passed.' 

"'The  cha'r  is  obleeged/  observes  Enright,  speakin' 
haughty,  'to  inform  Brother  Hamilton  that  the  threats 
jest  made  is  neither  in  good  nor  proodent  taste.  Brother 
Hamilton  must  realize  that  Brother  Hawkins,  otherwise 
the  Off- Wheeler,  is  oncap'ble,  as  a  member  of  the  clergy, 
of  callin'  his  wicked  bluffs.  Also,  I  promises  the  brother 
that  if  he  onlimbers  in  any  smoky  plays,  or  takes  to 
shootin'  up  our  pastor  in  sinful  manner  an'  form  as  by 
him  set  forth,  the  male  part  of  the  congregation  will 

58 


WOLFVILLE'S  REVIVAL 

deescend  upon  him  like  a  tornado,  me  in  the  avengin' 
van.  Brother  Hawkins  will  resoome  his  appeals,  on- 
terrified  of  these  menaces;  leavin'  Brother  Hamilton  to 
that  repentance  an*  hoomility  of  heart,  which  I'm  shore 
my  words  should  prodooce.' 

"It's  then  the  onexpected  happens;  an'  it  goes  a  long 
ways  toward  promootin'  confidence  in  the  Off- Wheeler's 
ministrations.  As  Enright  ceases,  an'  while  Boggs  an' 
Black  Jack — snortin'  challenges  to  Hamilton — are  tryin' 
to  cut  in  on  the  play,  the  Off- Wheeler  demands  to  be 
heard. 

"'Thankin'  the  cha'r,'  says  that  amatoor  clergyman, 
'for  its  generous  adherence  to  the  good  cause,  I  desires 
to  submit  that  I  freely  recognizes  the  rights  of  Brother 
Hamilton,  an'  shall  be  pleased  to  make  good  my  pulpit 
utterances  in  the  carnal  way  he  outlines.  If  the  cha'r 
will  pass  me  its  gun,  I  not  packin'  sech  hardware,  holdin' 
it  to  be  the  trinketry  of  Loocifer,  I  shall  hope  to  convince 
Brother  Hamilton  of  the  error  of  his  ways.  The  congre 
gation  will  take  a  recess  of  ten  minutes.  Meanwhile  we 
will  reepair  to  the  street,  where  I  trusts  to  settle  this  con 
troversy  to  the  glory  of  Zion.' 

"'But  do  you-all  reckon  it  looks  well,  in  one  whose 
mission  is  peace?'  asks  Enright,  some  scandalized. 

'"Thar  is  script'ral  preecedent;'  declar's  the  Off- 
Wheeler.  'Have  I  not  the  example  of  Joshua,  of  David, 
of  Saul  ? — all  men  of  war!  An'  of  Abner,  who  smote  his 
enemy  onder  the  fifth  rib;  an'  of  Peter,  who  struck  off  the 
y'ear?  Man  is  born  unto  trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly 
upwards!  Also,  fear  not  for  the  safety  of  your  shepherd. 

59 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Brother  Hamilton  is  some  soon  with  a  gun;  but,  behold, 
I  rely  on  One  that  taketh  the  wise  in  their  own  craftiness 
— even  upon  Him  that  maketh  the  deep  to  boil  like  a  pot! ' 

"As  the  congregation  files  out,  Boggs  pushes  up  to  the 
Off- Wheeler.  'Mebby,'  whispers  Boggs,  'you'd  better 
let  me  represent.  Bein'  inyoored  to  these  shindigs, 
I  most  likely  pulls  off  a  finish  more  fav'rable  to  the 
cause/ 

"'Nay/  returns  the  Off- Wheeler,  who  is  all  keyed  up, 
'I  shall  even  rebooke  this  son  of  Jeshurun,  who  I  per 
ceive  waxeth  fat  an'  kicks !  He  is  like  the  deaf  adder  that 
stoppeth  her  ear;  which  will  not  hearken  to  the  voice  of 
charmers,  charming  never  so  wisely!  Yea,  I  shall  show 
him  how  man's  days  are  as  grass! — as  a  flower  of  the 
field  so  he  flourisheth!' 

"Outside  in  the  street,  the  Off- Wheeler  an'  Hamilton 
takes  their  distance,  the  congregation  makin'  a  rank 
of  admiration  on  the  sidewalk.  Enright  gives  the  word 
by  droppin'  his  sombrero.  Hamilton  shoots  a  little  wide, 
while  the  Off- Wheeler  gets  Hamilton  in  the  thick  of  the 
laig. 

"How  goodly  are  thy  tents,  O  Jacob,  and  thy  taber 
nacle,  O  Israel!'  sings  the  Off- Wheeler,  as  he  returns 
Enright  his  gun. 

"We-all  goes  back  to  our  seats  in  the  sanctchooary, 
Enright  preesidin'  as  before,  an'  the  Off- Wheeler  takes 
up  his  supplications  where  Hamilton  interrupts. 

"When  the  pray'r  is  done,  Peets,  with  Boggs  an' 
Black  Jack,  comes  trailin'  in  from  the  O.  K.  House,  to 
which  hostelry  they  packs  Hamilton,  followin'  the  shootin'. 

60 


WOLFVILLE'S  REVIVAL 

"'How  is  my  injured  parishoner?'  asks  the  Off- 
Wheeler. 

"'Speakin'  as  his  medical  adviser/  says  Peets, '  I  should 
say  he'll  be  hobblin'  about  in  less'n  a  week.  Contin- 
yooin'  as  a  fellow  worker  in  the  vineyard,  I  adds  that  I 
leaves  him  in  a  tem'perate  an*  eddifyin'  frame.  He 
asks  me  to  say  that  he  reckons  you're  right  about  the 
proper  scope  of  pray'r.' 

"' Brother  Hamilton  is  a  lib'ral  soul!'  says  the  Off- 
Wheeler,  a  heap  pleased.  'Yea,  I  shall  visit  him!  Per- 
adventure,  I  shall  show  him  where  it  is  written  that  the 
liberal  soul  shall  be  made  fat!'  Then,  turnin'  to  us: 
'Oh,  my  hearers,  how  good  an'  how  pleasant  it  is  for 
brethren  to  dwell  together  in  yoonity!' 

"The  pianny — the  hymn  bein'  given  out — strikes  up, 
Miss  Silverthorne  puts  herself  in  the  vocal  lead,  an'  we- 
all  goes  riotin'  off  on  We're  Goin'  Home  to  Die  no  More, 
Boggs  distinguishin'  himse'f  as  prior,  his  tones  resemblin' 
a  wronged  buffalo  bull's.  After  the  song,  the  Off- Wheeler 
reads  his  text:  'Is  not  the  gleaning  of  the  grapes  of 
Ephraim,  better  than  the  vintage  of  Abi-ezer  ? '  Which 
the  sermon  is  a  jo-darter,  Wolfville  figgerin'  as '  the  vintage 
of  Abi-ezer.' 

"When  the  contreebution  box  is  passed  by  Boggs,  the 
same  bein'  Peet's  hat,  Hamilton,  to  show  he's  with  us, 
sends  over  a  20-dollar  gold  piece. 

"'This  is  strength  made  perfect  in  weakness!'  cries 
the  Off-Wheeler  joobilantly,  as  Hamilton's  donation 
comes  jinglin'  in.  'I  have  lighted  a  candle  of  under- 
standin'  in  his  heart,  which  shall  not  be  put  out!' 

61 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"  As  the  last  note  of  the  doxology  is  sung,  we-all  crowds 
forward  to  congratchoolate  the  Off- Wheeler. 

"Enright  is  the  first  to  take  his  hand.  'Which  I  talks 
for  all/  observes  Enright,  speakin'  so  every  one  can  hear, 
'  when  I  says  that  pluggin'  Brother  Hamilton  is  the  most 
excellent  element  in  the  ceremonies.  Nothin'  could 
have  happened  better,  nothin'  gone  half  so  far  towards 
convincin'  this  commoonity  of  the  genyooineness  of  your 
preachments.  That  little  gun  play  falls  in  plumb  right. 
When  you  return,  the  incident  will  make  your  callin' 
an'  election  shore.  I  shall  yereafter  think  better  of  my 
six-shooter/ — drawin*  the  weepon,  an*  lookin'  it  over 
approvingly — 'for  its  share  in  spreadin'  gospel  trooths,  an* 
the  part  it  plays  in  Brother  Hamilton's  conversion. ' " 


CHAPTER  VII 

BISMARK   DUTCH 

WHICH  Enright,"  remarked  the  old  gentleman, 
blowing  a  judgmatical  cloud,  "  bein'  the  con- 
trollin'  inflooence  of  that  engine  of  Wolfville 
joorisproodence,  the  stranglers,  allers  takes  to  himse'f 
the  reespons'bility  of  lettin'  Bismark  Dutch  go  that  time. 
Shore,  no;  that  ain't  the  old  cimarron's  name,  none  what 
ever!  We  simply  ups  an*  hails  him  as  'Bismark  Dutch' 
by  way  of  identification.  'Bismark'  would  have  been 
s'fficient  by  itse'f,  only  thar's  another  shorthorn  from  the 
Rhine,  over  in  Colton,  who's  called  'Bismark;'  wharf  ore 
we-all  affixes  'Dutch',  in  order,  as  Doc  Peets  says,  'to 
differentiate.' 

"After  Bismark  Dutch  has  done  pulled  his  freight, 
Enright  is  accustomed  now  an'  then  to  wax  quer'lous 
about  him  with  himse'f. 

"'By  every  roole  of  right,  Doc,'  he'd  say — for  he  levels 
these  yere  views  at  Peets — '  by  every  roole  of  right,  that 
Tootonic  maverick's  doo  to  be  swung  off.  It's  a  lapse 
of  jestice  to  let  him  go,  an'  shore  shows  I'm  gettin'  old. 
That  I  does  it  on  account  of  his  locoed  girl,  so  far  from 
excoosin'  sech  weakness,  merely  goes  to  prove  I'm  gettin' 
old  speshul.' 

"Gen'rally,  we-all  don't  say  nothin'  in  response, 

63 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Peets  an'  the  rest  of  us  holdin'  private  it's  only  Enright's 
affectations.  Wolfville's  old  chief  has  his  vanities,  same 
as  other  gents,  an'  he  likes  to  let  on  his  bein'  soft-hearted 
that  a-way  is  a  deefect. 

"Not  but  what  thar's  limits,  iron-bound  an*  onbreak- 
able,  which  goes  with  Enright's  moll'fications.  If  it's 
a  lady,  or  a  baby,  or  mebby  some  weak  an'  hopeless  sport 
who's  been  settin'  in  hard  luck,  he's  as  soft  an*  easy  as  a 
goose-ha'r  pillow.  It's  different  a  whole  lot  when  some 
maraudin'  form  of  murderer  pulls  off  a  killin'  cold,  an* 
mebby  does  it  from  the  r'ar.  Then  he's  that  hard  he'd 
cut  glass. 

"'It  shows  the  diff'rence,  Doc,'  Enright'd  go  on, 
'  between  a  vig'lance  committee  an'  a  shore  enough  court. 
Now  a  court  sticks  to  law,  an'  don't  go  pirootin'  off  to 
one  side  sympathetic.  But  a  vig'lance  committee,  spesh- 
ully  when  some  of  the  members  is  gettin'  on  in  years  an' 
beginnin'  to  slip  their  grip,  is  plenty  prone  to  let  their 
hearts  run  off  with  their  heads.  An'  so,'  he'd  conclood 
with  a  sigh,  'public  int'rest  goes  ungyarded  an*  exact 
jestice  gets  the  blind  staggers.' 

"'Oh,  I  don't  know,'  Peets'd  say,  expostchoolatin', 
at  the  same  time  winkin'  at  Boggs  or  Cherokee,  to  let  'em 
savey  he's  only  carryin'  on  the  conversation  so's  to  give 
Enright's  se'f  approval  a  chance  to  relax  'round  a  little 
— 'oh,  I  don't  know,  Sam!  Lettin'  a  gent  go  onswung, 
by  virchoo  of  his  folks  an'  their  feelin's,  is  a  mighty 
reason'ble  reason.  You  ups  an'  hangs  a  party!  Next 
day,  the  play's  the  same  to  him  as  though  it  never  comes 
off.  Not  so  his  folks.  S'ppose  he  has  a  mother  now? 

64 


BISMARK 

Her  pore  old  sensibilities  continyoos  sweatin'  blood 
till  the  closin'  of  her  days.  Once  a  year,  when  the  aw 
ful  date  comes  round,  it's  all  to  go  through  ag'in  for  her. 
An*  so,  heart-broke  an'  stricken,  she  keeps  bleedin'  away 
her  life.  For  which  said  causes,  I  holds  vig'lance  com 
mittees  has  got  regular  triboonals  beat  to  a  stand-still, 
seein'  they  takes  sech  argyooments  as  that  pore  old 
mother  into  consideration.' 

"Enright  after  listenin'  to  the  above'd  shake  his  head, 
like  he's  tryin'  to  feel  resigned.  Then  he'd  sigh  ag'in 
plenty  dolorous,  an'  say:  'Mebby  you're  right,  Doc; 
mebby  you're  right!'  an'  all  plumb  broken-sperited. 
After  which  he'd  brace  up  mighty  fierce,  an'  turn  on 
Black  Jack  with, '  Whatever  do  you  reckon  we're  ha'ntin' 
about  the  Red  Light  for?' 

"This  yere'd  close  the  talk  on  that  p'int,  an*  as  Black 
Jack,  some  conscience  stricken,  shoves  up  the  bottles, 
we  shifts  to  other  topics. 

"None  of  us  ever  gets  to  know  much  about  Bismark 
Dutch;  an'  Who  he  is  ?  an'  What  he  is  ?  an'  Why  he  is  ? 
constitootes  a  list  concernin'  which  Wolfville  wrangles 
over  unto  this  day.  Boggs,  the  first  flash  out  o'  the  box, 
allows  he's  a  hermit.  Wharupon,  Tutt  p'ints  out  pos'- 
tive  that  he  can't  be  no  hermit,  because  his  daughter's 
with  him. 

"' Hermits  that  a-way  Dan,'  declar's  Tutt,  'never  has 
no  children  an'  always  dwells  alone.  Which  it's  essen- 
shul  to  hermits  to  dwell  alone.'  Folio  win'  these  yere 
announcements,  Tutt  promulgates  a  theory  Bismark 
Dutch  is  a  exile.  '  Take  my  steer  for  it,'  says  he, '  they've 

65 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

been  layin'  for  him  in  the  old  country  to  put  him  over 
the  big  jump,  by  reason  of  p'litical  crimes;  an*  nacherally, 
him  not  bein'  born  yesterday,  he  seeks  refooge  as  a  exile 
in  Arizona.' 

"Tutt's  explanation  gains  adherents,  ontil  one  day 
when  Bismark  Dutch  comes  romancin'  into  Wolfville 
on  a  mule — it's  the  single  time  he  visits  us — an',  after 
tankin'  up  successful,  reetires  singin'  a  ballad  which 
Peets  calls  Die  Wacht  am  Rhine,  the  same  bein'  the 
Dutch  Star  Spangled  Banner.  His  carollin'  this  yere 
madrigal  don't  sound  like  he's  a  p'litical  refyoogee  much, 
but  on  the  contrary  shows  him  an'  his  gov'ment  to  be 
as  thick  as  thieves.  Which  last  knocks  Tutt's  theery 
about  him  bein'  a  exile  on  the  head. 

"For  myse'f  I  never  agrees  with  either  Tutt  or  Boggs. 
Nor  yet  with  the  stage  company,  when  they  claims 
Bismark  Dutch  is  a  holdup,  or  at  least  has  struck  a 
cache  where  long-ago  route  agents  has  done  hid  their 
loot.  The  gold  he  exhibits  in  Tucson,  when  stiffenin' 
his  hand  as  to  flour,  syrup,  salt-hoss  an'  air-tights,  is 
every  splinter  Spanish  money,  each  piece  more'n  seventy 
years  old.  The  stage  company  never  handles  no  sech 
lucre;  an'  to  go  chargin'  'round,  hintin'  as  how  that 
dinero  is  theirs,  crowds  mighty  clost  to  the  preepost'rous. 

"My  own  notion,  upheld  by  somethin'  more  than 
roomer,  is  that  Bismark  Dutch  comes  scoutin'  for  buried 
treasure  from  the  jump.  The  line  I  gets  is  he's  last  from 
Chihuahua,  over  in  Mexico,  where  he's  been  sent  by 
some  Dutch  outfit  of  learnin'  to  write  a  book  about  the 
Greasers.  Some'ers  in  his  pokin'  about,  he's  crossed  up 

66 


BISMARK  DUTCH 

with  word,  most  likely  written  word,  about  them  Span 
ish  yellow  boys.  At  which  he  lets  go  all  holds,  deecends 
on  Arizona  all  spraddled  out,  an*  exhoomes  the 
same. 

"  Which  the  utmost  space  Bismark  Dutch  is  camped 
within  the  shadow  of  our  protection,  don't  measure  up 
three  months.  Not  that  said  protectin'  shadow  is  plumb 
deep,  seein'  he  sityooates  himse'f  a  day's  ride  away, 
over  at  the  Tucson  end  of  the  canyon.  It's  the 
mercy  of  hell,  added  to  aboriginal  forbearance,  that  he 
emerges  from  sech  residence  onskelped.  I  reckon  at 
that  the  Apaches  comes  round  frequent  an'  looks  him 
over — for  the  mountains  is  full  of  'em  that  a-way — but 
passes  him  an'  his  daughter  up  as  cripples  an'  loonatics. 
He  himse'f  is  part  paralyzed,  his  left  arm  hangin'  loose 
an'  dead;  an'  as  for  the  girl,  even  a  Apache  makes  out  at  a 
glance  how  she's  as  topsey-turvey  mental  as  a  mountain 
sheep.  Shore!  Injuns  never  molests  cripples  an'  crazy 
folks,  regyardin'  'em  as  onder  the  speshul  gyardianship 
of  the  Great  Sperit.  It's  one  of  a  Injun's  few  redeemin' 
feachures. 

"We  learns  first  of  Bismark  Dutch  from  Old  Monte. 
Over  to  the  north  end  of  the  canyon,  an'  west  of  the 
trail,  stands  a  little  old  stone  wickeyup.  The  name  it  goes 
by,  when  we  alloods  to  it,  is  the  'Mexican  Rock  House.' 
It's  constructed  by  reemote  Mexicans,  so  long  back  no 
white  gent  ever  makes  even  a  guess  as  to  when.  All 
we  knows  is  it's  thar  when  we  trails  in,  an'  no  one  livin' 
ill  it;  an',  since  no  one's  that  feeble-witted  as  to  want  to 
live  in  it  an'  the  hills  swarmin'  with  Injuns,  it  remains 

67 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

onokepied  ontil  this  reedic'lous  Bismark  Dutch  comes 
weavin'  along. 

"  Old  Monte  regales  us  one  evenin'  with  a  yarn  about 
some  pecooliar  party  goin'  into  camp  in  the  Mexican  Rock 
House.  It  seems  he  crosses  up  with  Bismark  Dutch, 
prowlin'  about  on  the  trail,  as  he's  bringin'  in  the  stage. 

"'But  since  this  nondeescript  talks  in  a  onknown 
tongue/  says  Old  Monte,  'I  can't  make  out  what  he's 
drivin'  at  more'n  if  its  Chinee.  Which  it's  obv'ous  he's 
as  crazy  as  a  woman's  watch.  Thar's  a  girl,  too — darter 
most  likely — as  wild  an'  shy  as  a  mule-eared  deer.  I'd 
shore  say  she's  as  locoed  as  her  old  man.' 

"'Is  she  pretty?'  asks  Faro  Nell. 

"'She  ain't  no  lamp  of  beauty,  Nell,'  says  Old  Monte. 
'Mebby  she'd  look  sweeter  if  she's  fatted  up,  bein'  as 
fleshless  that  a-way  as  my  whip-stock.' 

"We-all  don't  attach  no  weight  to  Old  Monte's  re 
marks  about  Bismark  Dutch  an'  his  daughter  bein' 
locoed,  by  reason  of  his  licker.  Not  that  we're  likely  to 
go  saddlin'  up  an'  ridin'  round  permiscus,  even  if  we 
does.  A  gent's  free  to  be  crazy  in  Arizona,  if  he  so  pre 
fers.  So  long  as  his  vagaries  don't  take  the  form  of 
stickin'  up  the  stage,  or  brandin'  another  gent's  calves,  or 
stealin'  his  ponies,  or  holdin'  six  kyards  in  a  friendly  game, 
public  feelin*  puts  no  queries. 

"'What  for  a  lookin'  tarrapin  is  this  remark'ble 
squatter  ? '  asks  Peets,  who  likes  to  listen  to  Old  Monte 
talk. 

'"Which  he's  hidjeous  approachin'  horned  toads!' 
returns  Old  Monte,  sloppin*  out  another  drink. 

68 


BISMARK  DUTCH 

"'Horned  toads?'  repeats  Peets.  'Horned  toads 
is  all  right,  so  you  knows  your  toads/ 

"'What  I  means  is  this/  replies  Old  Monte  sort  o' 
irritated,  thinkin'  Peets  is  jeerin'  at  him.  'He's  got  a 
onfav'rable  gnurllyfied  lookin'  face,  same  as  you  sees 
kyarved  on  the  far  ends  of  fiddles.  Besides,  he's  all 
broke  down  on  his  nigh  side  by  palsy  or  something  that 
left  wing  of  his'n  ain't  in  play  more'n  a  rotten  bean 
stalk.' 

"When,  later,  Bismark  Dutch  comes  rackin'  along 
into  Wolfville  mule-back,  we  sizes  him  up  for  ourselves. 
He  goes  over  to  Red  Dog  the  same  day,  an'  it's  as  if  he's 
takin'  stock  of  his  environments.  The  stage  company 
calls  attention  to  this,  as  deenotin'  turpitood;  but  no  one 
else  regyards  it  in  that  light,  corp'rations  bein'  nacherally 
s'spicious.  Besides,  what's  more  to  be  expected  than 
for  a  newcomer  to  go  floatin'  hither  an'  yon  about  the 
range  that  a-way,  locatin'  himse'f  ? 

"After  Bismark  Dutch  looks  Red  Dog  over,  he  returns 
ag'in  to  Wolfville — tharby  displayin'  his  good  sense — 
fills  up  on  Black  Jack's  nose-paint,  an'  reetires  warblin' 
them  native  patriotic  hymns  as  chronicled.  It's  this 
yere  trip,  after  doo  deebate,  we  enrolls  him  as  'Bismark 
Dutch.'  Also,  for  looks  an'  palsy  he's  all  Old  Monte 
describes. 

"  Most  of  us  has  forgot  Bismark  Dutch,  when  one  after 
noon  Old  Monte  remarks  casyooal: 

"'You-all  recalls  about  old  Bismark's  nigh  fin  bein' 
out  o'  reepair?  Nevertheless  an'  notwithstandin'  he's 
on  the  shoot  jest  the  same.  I  glimpses  the  fresh  pelt  of 

69 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

a  bobcat,  as  I  comes  squanderin'  along,  tacked  up  an* 
sun-dryin'  on  his  teepee  door/ 

"  Public  interest  refooses  to  cock  its  y'ears  at  this. 
To  come  round  tellin'  that  some  gent  can  shoot  some, 
ain't  no  way  to  create  ripples  in  Arizona.  Which  it'd 
be  more  apt  to  make  folks  set  up  an'  bat  their  eyes,  to 
hear  he  couldn't.  Old  Monte's  manifesto  that  Bismark 
Dutch  is  not  wholly  ignorant  of  firearms,  would  have  gone 
in  one  y'ear  an'  out  the  other,  only  it  gets  subsequent 
confirmation. 

"They  does  a  heap  of  careless  talkin'  over  in  Tucson. 
Folks  thar  has  already  done  commenced  to  don  city  airs, 
an'  swell  'round  meetropol'tan.  Which  I've  frequent 
noticed  that,  jest  as  a  outfit  begins  to  ape  the  East,  it 
takes  to  waxin'  reckless  an'  onbuckled  conversational. 
The  Tucson  attention  is  roused  by  two  things  about  Bis 
mark  Dutch.  One  is  he  never  had  no  money  in  the 
Tucson  bank;  an'  the  other  is  he  not  only  possesses 
plenteous  wealth,  but  pays  for  chuck  an'  fire-water  an* 
sim'lar  necessaries  in  them  ancient  Spanish  yellow  pieces 
I  refers  to  prior.  Also,  it's  no  time  after  he  locates  him- 
se'f  at  the  Mexican  Rock  House — an'  this  is  excitin' 
speshul — before  he  begins  to  ship  express  packages  to 
Europe — Berlin,  if  mem'ry's  keepin'  its  feet.  These 
yere  packages  he  valyoos  at  five  thousand  dollars  per; 
an'  to  heft  one  of  'em  shows  it's  some'ers  about  twenty 
pounds. 

"'Gold!'  says  the  express  agent,  comparin'  valyoo 
to  heft;  an'  between  us  I  strings  my  chips  with  that  astoote 
express  gent  in  them  concloosions. 

70 


BISMARK  DUTCH 

"When  the  express  gent  says  'Gold!'  it  starts  all  the 
clackin'  mill-wheels  of  Tucson  conjectchoor  to  work- 
in'  over-time.  Likewise  it  opens  up  a  line  of  proof  as  to 
Bismark  Dutch  bein'  mod'rately  on  the  shoot. 

"The  last  struggles  to  the  surface  this  fashion.  It's 
at  the  Red  Light  when  a  skeered  dejected-seemin'  party 
hitches  his  cha'r  up  alongside  of  Enright's,  an'  tells  how 
Bismark  Dutch  cuts  loose  at  him  with  a  rifle.  As  lendin* 
corrob'ration,  he  shows  where  a  bullet's  burned  the  calf 
of  his  laig.  It's  his  idee  the  stranglers  ought  to  move 
some  in  the  business. 

"'Whatever  be  you  doin'  to  this  Dutchman?'  asks 
Enright.  'You  shore  don't  aim  to  tell  me  he  ups  an' 
whangs  away  at  you,  jest  to  try  the  sights  on  his  gun  ? ' 

"  With  that  the  creased  party  confesses,  some  shame 
faced,  how  the  tales  about  Bismark  Dutch  changin'  in 
Spanish  pieces  at  the  Tucson  stores,  an'  sendin'  bags  of 
doubloons  to  Europe,  sets  his  imagination  to  millin', 
an'  he  allows  he'll  go  spyin'  'round  to  locate  where  he 
gets  'em. 

"You  see,'  says  the  creased  party,  'pologetic,  'I'm 
a  prospector.' 

"Oh,  you're  a  prospector!'  returns  Enright,  plenty 
sarcastic.  'Permit  me  to  add  you're  likewise  lucky 
to  be  alive.  Now  if  you  was  to  come  catfootin'  about 
my  camp,  they'd  need  a  blanket  wharin  to  collect  your 
reemains.  It's  a  cow  pony  to  a  prairie  dog,  I'd  shoot  you 
in  two.'  Then  to  Jack  Moore:  'Jack,  at  a  earliest 
el'gible  chance,  take  a  squint  at  that  old  Dutch  party's 
rifle.  If,  as  I  fears,  it's  a  inferior  weepon,  see  to  it  he 

71 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

gets  a  proper  one  instanter.  In  case,  however,  his  pres 
ent  arm'ment  should  prove  all  right,  notch  up  the  hind 
sight  a  p'int  or  two.  I  jedge,  from  this  yere  prospector's 
laig,  he's  shootin*  too  low.' 

"Jack  says  he  will;  wharat  the  creased  prospector 
looks  oncomfort'ble." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    CANYON    HOLD-UP 

ABOUT  the  time  Bismark  Dutch  onfurls  his 
blankets  in  the  Mexican  Rock  House,  seizes 
his  rifle  an'  takes  to  bustin*  at  bobcats  an* 
prospectors  indifferent,  over  by  the  Cow  Springs,  as 
ornery  a  passel  of  rustlers  as  ever  dangles  at  the  loop- 
end  of  a  lariat,  builds  'em  a  dug-out  an'  goes  into  camp. 
This  yere  labor  of  a  dug-out  gives  the  play  a  air  of 
perm'nency,  that  a-way,  which  appeals  invidious  to  us 
folks  who  has  cows  an'  calves  to  lose.  Likewise  the 
stage  company's  apprehensions  takes  to  ghost-dancin' ; 
the  thought  of  so  seelect  a  bevy  of  blacklaigs,  established 
so  near  at  hand,  gives  'em  the  shivers.  The  agent  goes 
to  the  extent  of  talkin'  it  over  with  Enright  on  the  quiet. 

"'Whatever  can  you  do?'  asks  Enright  in  response. 
'You-all  ain't  permitted  to  up  an'  blow  folks'  lights  out, 
simply  because  you  distastes  their  looks.  Which  a  lack 
of  pulcritood  ain't  on  offence.  We'll  have  to  wait  ontil 
them  Cow  Springs  guerrilas  starts  somethin'.' 

"Thar's  three,  by  corral  count,  in  this  yere  Cow 
Springs  contingent — three,  an'  a  Mexican  to  cook  for  'em. 
The  leader  is  Big  Steve;  an'  he  clothes  himse'f,  as  in  a 
weddin'  garment,  with  the  repyootation  of  havin'  downed 
divers  an'  sundry  citizens  in  private  wars  of  his  own. 
6  73 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

They  do  allow,  too,  that  once  this  Big  Steve  gets  to  drink- 
in',  he  brags  about  them  homicides.  For  myse'f,  never 
havin'  had  the  pleasure  of  seein'  him  drunk  none,  I'm 
onable  to  say.  If  he  does,  sech  boasts  shows  he's  plumb 
vulgar  in  the  extreme. 

"As  a  excoose  for  livin',  Big  Steve  puts  it  up  cold  he's  a 
cattleman — him  an'  his  felon  campaneros.  Since  no 
gent  ever  sees  no  cattle,  an'  he  don't  announce  no  brand, 
sech  bluffs  is  held  to  be  figments.  To  be  shore,  a  talka 
tive  sport  shows  up  from  over  to'ards  Waco  once,  who 
lets  on  that  Big  Steve  is,  for  a  limited  period,  in  the  cattle 
trade  in  Texas.  He  tells  how  Big  Steve  starts  with  a 
orig'nal  herd  of  two  old  steers,  an'  the  followin'  spring 
round-up  brands  eighty  calves.  Wharupon  his  fellow 
laborers  in  the  walks  of  cattle  gets  jealous  of  his  success 
an'  runs  Big  Steve  out. 

"Enright  an'  the  balance  of  us  finds  much  in  them 
Waco  rem'nescences  to  feed  our  feelin's. 

"'An'  at  that,'  says  Enright;  'mebby  when  all's  in, 
it  ain't  cattle  he's  after;  mebby  he's  only  smugglin'  be 
tween  us  an'  Mexico.' 

"  Big  Steve  at  the  go-off  makes  but  one  excursion  into 
Wolfville.  On  that  occasion,  havin'  absorbed  the 
'leventh  drink,  he  begins — his  outlaw  companions  actin' 
as  audience — to  talk  a  heap  loud.  Cl'arin'  his  valves 
with  a  whoop  which  shakes  the  glasses  on  the  Red  Light 
bar,  he  backs  up  ag'inst  the  front  of  that  house  of  enter 
tainment,  an'  roars  out: 

"'Which  I  shore  feels  that  contrary  I  jest  won't  stay 
yere  nor  go  anywhere  else  I* 

74 


THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 

"  Jack  Moore,  whose  dooty  as  kettle  tender  is  to  mod- 
'rate  eboolient  sperits,  don't  happen  to  be  present  none; 
wharf  ore  Cherokee  assoomes  the  pressure.  Gettin* 
up  from  behind  his  faro  lay-out — the  Red  Light  bein' 
Cherokee's  place  of  business — he  sa'nters  forth  an* 
fronts  up  to  Big  Steve. 

'"It  ain't  for  me/ says  Cherokee,  'to  go  knockin'  the 
horns  off  the  innocent  happiness  of  folks,  but  if  I  was 
you  I'd  not  emit  that  yell  no  more.  Thar's  a  party, 
somewhat  resemblin'  you  for  gen'ral  worthlessness,  who 
in  a  fool  attempt  to  buffalo  this  village  cuts  loose  a  yell 
like  that,  an'  we  gives  him  inexpensive  interment  on  Boot 
Hill.' 

"Big  Steve  takes  in  Cherokee  with  one  convincin* 
glance,  an'  grows  moote  as  a  oyster.  It's  the  only  time 
them  Cow  Springs  hold-ups  tries  anything  on  us. 

"Not  but  what  they  has  their  merry  hours.  Thar's  a 
Mexican  plaza  over  back  towards  the  line,  an',  when 
they  feels  the  need  of  a  holiday,  they  repairs  thither  an' 
stands  it  on  its  he'pless  head.  But  they  never  ropes  at 
Wolfville  after  Cherokee  gives  notice.  Likewise,  as 
raw  material  for  a  shakin'  up,  they  coppers  Red  Dog, 
Troo,  Red  Dog  is  not  without  its  blemishes;  but  bein' 
meek  an'  lowly  an'  long-sufferin',  that  a-way,  ain't 
among  'em  none.  Which  the  inborn  b'ligerency  of  that 
Red  Dog  camp  is  sech  as  to  cause  it  to  go  about  on  per- 
petchooal  tip-toe,  growlin'  same  as  a  sorehead  dog! 
Thar's  nothin'  to  it!  If  Big  Steve  an'  his  gang  was  to  go 
bulgin'  into  Red  Dog,  allowin'  to  put  things  on  a  gala 
basis,  they'd  last  about  as  long  as  a  pint  of  whisky  at  a 

75 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

barn-raisin*.  Them  Red  Dog  sports  would  split  'em 
into  kindlin'  in  the  flourish  of  a  fiddle  bow! 

"Could  Red  Dog  clean  up  Wolfville?  Son,  it  ill 
beseems  one  who's  teeterin'  along  in  the  deeclinin'  twi 
light  of  his  days,  to  go  exaltin'  his  bazoo  concernin' 
carnage.  But,  you  hear  me!  if  Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog 
ever  hooks  up  hostile,  historians  will  shore  head  the 
chapter,  'Red  Dog's  Last  Days.'  Whar  Red  Dog 
proudly  r'ars  its  crest,  only  a  onrecogniz'ble  heap  of 
grease  an'  ashes  will  be  found,  polka-dottin'  the  sorrow 
ful  bosom  of  the  plain.  Off  to  one  side,  Wolfville — an' 
never  the  smell  of  fire  about  her  garments — will  be  pur- 
sooin'  the  even  tenors  an'  contraltos  of  her  ways. 

"Do  you  know" — and  here  the  old  gentleman  gazed  at 
me  with  reproachful  earnestness — "thar's  moments 
when  a  blind  chill  comes  gropin'  its  way  along  my  back, 
as  I'm  seized  of  fears  that  somehow  you-all  don't  'ppre- 
ciate  Wolfville  at  its  full  strength.  Now  to  give  you  a 
c'rrect  notion:  Do  you  remember,  back  in  your  school 
days,  where  the  question  arises  in  nacheral  ph'losophy,  as 
to  whatever'll  be  the  toomulchoous  result  if  a  irresist'ble 
force  encounters  a  immov'ble  body?  Well,  son,  yere- 
after  b'ar  in  mind  that  the  answer  to  that  conundrum 
is  simply  'Wolfville.' 

"Thar  ain't  been  no  stick-up  of  a  stage  in  our  neck  of 
woods,  for  the  bigger  part  of  a  year.  Route  agents  comes 
an'  goes.  They'll  get  plumb  busy  for  a  spell;  an'  it's 
'hands  up!'  yere,  thar  an'  elsewhere,  in  a  perfect 
ep'demic.  Hold-up  people  seem  for  the  moment  as 
thick  as  rats  in  a  wheat-rick.  At  sech  eepocks  it's  up 

76 


THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 

to  all  hands  an'  the  cook  to  pull  themselves  together, 
which  they  seldom  fails  to  do,  an*  run  off  or  kill  off — 
never  mindin'  which — these  yere  maraudin'  miscreents. 

"Bein'  immoone  from  hold-ups  for  so  long,  it  don't 
s'prise  us  none  when  Old  Monte  comes  frothin'  into 
camp  one  evenin'  with  a  story  to  tell.  He's  at  the  head 
of  the  canyon,  he  says,  on  the  run  in,  when  a  rifle  cracks 
from  some'ers  up  among  the  rocks.  The  outlaw  back 
of  the  gun — an'  the  scheme's  workmanlike  enough — tries 
for  the  off  leader.  Once  the  leader's  down,  it's  a  cinch  the 
stage'll  wait  his  crim'nal  convenience. 

"But  the  hold-up  ondershoots.  Instead  of  gettin'  the 
leader  through  the  head,  the  same  bein*  his  orig'nal  de 
sign,  the  bullet  comes  flyin'  low,  an'  cuts  the  outside  rein 
clost  up  to  the  bits.  It's  done  as  slick  as  if  it's  slashed  in 
two  with  a  bowie.  After  cuttin'  the  rein,  the  bullet 
snips  a  piece  of  hide  out  o'  the  nigh  leader's  knee.  Thar's 
a  run-away;  Old  Monte,  because  of  the  cut  rein,  bein' 
powerless  to  guide  or  stop.  The  six  plungin'  bosses, 
wild  an'  wilder  every  jump,  goes  t'arin'  up  the  canyon, 
the  stage  rockin*  an'  rollin'  but  upright  on  its  four 
wheels. 

"As  the  stage  goes  surgin'  off,  the  hold-ups  makes  a 
witless  play.  They  sends  a  shower  of  lead  after  the 
retreatin'  veheecle — no  least  chance  of  stoppin'  it! — an' 
bumps  off  a  maverick  who's  perched  up  behind.  By 
word  of  Old  Monte,  an'  that  of  the  express  messenger 
who's  ridin'  shotgun,  both  plenty  adept,  the  shootin's 
done  by  three  guns. 

"Nothin'  in  a  smash-up  or  break-down  way  ensoos; 

77 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

for  the  six  bosses,  locoed  as  they  be  by  fear,  still  keeps 
the  trail.  Strikin'  a  sandy  stretch,  they  slows  down  to 
sech  degrees  that — what  with  the  brake  which  Old 
Monte  sets  to  the  last  notch — the  express  messenger 
jumps  to  the  ground,  runs  along  the  team,  an'  by  gettin' 
hold  of  the  leaders'  bits  see-saws  'em  to  a  halt. 

"Something  of  the  eediotic  sort  of  these  yere  hold-ups 
can  be  guessed  at  by  recallin'  how  they  wastes  their 
fragrance  on  a  incomin'  stage.  The  only  show  for  riches 
is  on  a  stage  goin'  out.  Stickin'  up  in-comin'  coaches 
that  a- way,  wouldn't  pay  day  wages! 

"Beyond  the  cut  rein,  an'  the  dead  party  up  behind, 
thar's  no  damage  done.  We're  inclined  to  resent  the 
beefin'  of  the  latter  gent.  He's  only  one  of  them  travelin' 
salesmen;  but  sech  things,  left  onchecked,  swells  into 
preecedents.  Give  some  folks  a  inch  an'  they'll  take  a 
ell,  particularly  hold-ups. 

"Thar's  no  fashion  o'  doubt  but  it's  Big  Steve  an' 
his  pards. 

:" Still,'  as  Enright  puts  it,  'the  trouble  lies  in  a  utter 
an'  discouragin'  want  of  proofs.' 

"Lynch  law,  while  eelastic,  mustn't  be  stretched  too 
far;  shorely  not  to  incloode  parties  ag'inst  whom  the  most 
you  can  say  is  you  don't  like  their  looks.  None  the  less 
we  figgers  we'll  go  rummagin'  over  to  the  Cow  Springs, 
an'  put  some  p'inted  queries. 

"It's  yere  the  game  begins  to  roll  our  way.  About  the 
time  we're  ready  to  saddle  up,  who  comes  caperin' 
in  but  Big  Steve  an'  his  bandit  pards.  They  puts  their 
ponies  in  the  corral,  an'  makes  tracks  for  the  Red  Light; 

78 


THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 

thar  they  takes  to  h'istin'  in  licker  with  both  hands,  an' 
all  mighty  nervous  an'  boisterous. 

"None  of  us  goes  near  'em,  the  same  bein'  a  strategic 
move  suggested  by  Enright. 

"'  Which  it's  their  fears  has  drove  'em  in,'  says  that 
wise  old  long-horn.  'All  we  got  to  do  is  let  'em  pitch  on 
their  ropes  till  they  throws  themselves.' 

"Enright's  head  is  level.  As  their  licker  begins  to  get 
action,  Big  Steve  an'  his  pards  takes  to  murmurin'  among 
themselves,  an'  all  in  a  ill-yoosed  vein.  Their  talk  is 
about  the  stage  bein'  stood  up;  an'  how  they  don't 
reckon  on  permittin'  Wolfville,  or  any  other  camp,  to 
track  'round  sayin'  it's  them  none.  It's  a  fine  state  of 
affairs,  they  says,  if  a  band  of  innocent  cow  people  can't 
set  about  their  fire,  an'  a  stage  get  stopped  without  they 
be  accoosed! 

"That's  how  their  talk  runs;  an'  it  shows  they're 
guilty,  drunk  an'  skeered — all  three.  How  be  they  to 
know  that  the  stage  has  been  stood  up  ?  The  roomer  so 
far  ain't  even  crossed  to  Red  Dog.  Much  less  is  it 
likely  it's  gone  riotin'  out  to  the  Cow  Springs! 

"Thar's  not  a  moral  doubt!'  says  Enright  emphatic 
as  him  an'  Jack  Moore  confers  one  side.  'An'  yet,  as 
the  kyards  lay,  if  we  brings  'em  before  us  an'  they  stops 
talkin',  we'll  be  out  on  a  limb  ag'in  for  want  of  what 
law-wolves  calls  "legal  proofs".' 

' '  Most  likely,'  returns  Jack,  '  the  cunnin'  move  would 
be  to  simply  an'  silently  swing  an'  rattle  with  'em  ontil 
eevents  shapes  up.  As  you  says,  Sam,  it's  their  fears 
that  a-way  drives  'em  into  town.  Knowin'  themselves 

79 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

guilty,  they  allows  we-alPll  be  shore  to  come  searchin' 
for  'em;  an*  so  they  decides,  for  the  looks,  to  beat  us 
to  it.' 

" '  What's  your  own  notion,  Jack  ? '  asks  Enright. 

'"My  idee  is  this:  It's  the  frightened  gent  who, 
speakin'  gen'ral,  reaches  first  for  his  gun.  Now  by  follow- 
in'  these  stoodents  in  sin  about,  an'  lookin'  at  'em  some 
severe,  we  renders  'em  that  hyster'cal  they'll  start  a 
bombardment.  Once  they  onlimbers  their  guns,  the  rest 
is  easy.  I  thinks  I  sees  my  way  through  to  a  finale, 
which'll  leave  no  reason  for  the  stranglers  to  convene.' 

"'Well/  returns  Enright,  'be  discreet,  Jack.  If 
in  the  course  of  hooman  eevents,  however,  these  yere 
parties  does  get  wiped  out,  I  don't  look  to  see  no  pop'lar 
reemonstrance  based  on  Arizona's  havin'  suffered  a 
blow.' 

"'Gents,'  says  Jack  a  moment  later  to  Boggs  an* 
Texas  Thompson,  'it  looks  like  a  battle;  an*  thar's  a 
couple  of  vacancies.' 

"'Enough  said,'  grins  Texas. 

"As  the  three  stands  at  the  Red  Light  bar,  prepar'tory 
to  issuing  forth,  Boggs  whispers  across  to  Black  Jack: 

'"You'll  hear  a  dog  howl  in  a  minute — sev'ral  dogs.' 

"  Big  Steve  an'  his  pards  is  jest  ridin'  out  of  the  corral, 
as  Jack  with  Boggs  an'  Texas  strolls  up. 

"'Open  order,  gents!'  whispers  Boggs,  who's  an  old 
gun-player.  '  Make  'em  shoot  to  win.  Don't  give  'em 
no  chance  to  out-luck  us,  by  missin'  one  an'  downin* 
another  accidental.' 

"Boggs  an'  Texas  an'  Jack  spreads  out,  an'  comes 

80 


THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 

driftin'  up  on  Big  Steve  an'  his  two.  The  sight  of  'em, 
as  Jack  advises  Enright,  stampedes  Big  Steve. 

"'Fight  your  way  out,  boys!'  he  cries. 

"Like  it's  some  new  kind  of  cavalry  drill,  the  three 
hold-ups  is  out  of  their  saddles  an'  onto  the  ground  in  a 
flash,  the  ponies  actin'  as  shields.  The  war  begins: 
'bangety!  bang!  bang!'  The  ponies  makes  tol'rable 
breastworks,  but  bad  rests  to  shoot  from.  The  hold 
ups'  bullets  fly  as  high  an'  aimless  as  swallow-birds  on 
a  summer's  eve.  As  ag'inst  this,  not  bein'  hampered 
by  no  ponies,  both  Texas  an'  Jack  gets  their  men,  first 
fire,  too  dead  to  skin. 

"It's  Boggs  who's  havin'  the  interestin'  time.  He's 
pa'red  himse'f  off  with  Big  Steve,  an'  the  hold-up — him 
openin'  the  baile — secoors  the  primary  shot  at  Boggs. 
The  latter  painstakin'  enthoosiast  is  jest  pullin'  his  six- 
shooter,  when  Big  Steve's  bullet  splits  on  the  bar'l,  an' 
a  piece  of  lead  gets  jammed  in  between  the  cylinder  an' 
the  steel  frame.  It  ties  up  Boggs'  gun  so  he  can't  even 
cock  it.  Which  he  might  as  well  have  had  a  monkey- 
wrench! 

"After  a  footile  attempt  or  two  to  get  action,  Boggs 
turns  disgusted  an'  hurls  the  gun  at  Big  Steve;  who's 
meanwhile  been  cuttin'  loose  every  load  in  his  Colt's- 
45,  like  the  strikin'  of  a  Connecticut  clock.  One 
way  an*  another,  however,  he  never  lands;  an'  when  he's 
out  his  sixth  cartridge,  he  gives  a  screech  of  terror  an' 
swings  into  the  saddle  for  a  scamper. 

"Big  Steve  don't  scamper,  none  whatever!  Boggs 
is  too  clost,  an'  grips  him,  shoulder  an'  hip,  with  a  wrest- 

81 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

ler's  hold.  Boggs  is  as  big  an'  strong  as  a  cinnamon  b'ar; 
an',  since  Big  Steve  clamps  his  pony  tight  with  a  laig-hug, 
Boggs  with  one  mighty  twist  throws  both  man  an*  mount 
on  their  sides.  Which  Big  Steve  an*  that  pony  hits  the 
ground  like  a  fallin'  tree!  Boggs  is  about  to  accumyoo- 
late  fresh  holds,  when  Jack  carefully  sends  a  bullet  through 
Big  Steve's  head. 

"At  first  Boggs  can't  onderstand;  then  he  begins  to 
feel  nettled. 

"Well,  as  Doc  Peets  remarks,'  he  exclaims,  'I  shore 
admires  your  sang  froid!  What  license  has  you-all 
to  intermeddle  with  this  Big  Steve,  when  by  the  ord'n- 
ances  of  single  combat  he's  my  individyooal  meat  ? ' 

"Which  I  gets  afraid,  Dan/  replies  Jack,  his  tones 
deprecatory,  'you're  goin'  to  catch  him  alive — a  state  of 
affairs  which  Enright  deplores  private  to  me  in  advance, 
as  calk'lated  to  become  embarrassin'.' 

"Boggs,  who's  as  easy  mollified  as  a  child,  cl'ars  up  an* 
smiles  like  a  day  in  Joone. 

"'I'm  wrong,  Jack,'  he  says;  'even  without  old  Sam's 
instructions.  Thar's  sech  a  thing  as  bein'  too  technicle; 
it's  a  fault  I  must  gyard  ag'inst.' 

"An'  now  Bismark  Dutch  re-begins  to  edge  himse'f 
into  the  picture.  The  place  wharfrom  them  canyon 
hold-ups  does  their  shootin'  at  the  stage,  is  so  sityooated 
that  you-all  could  heave  a  stone  down  onto  the  roof  of 
that  Mexican  Rock  House  where  Bismark  Dutch,  with 
his  crazy-hoss  girl,  is  domiciled.  Still  no  one  regyards 
the  old  Teuton  as  implicated.  Old  Monte,  mind  full  of 
bobcats  an'  prospectors,  an'  babblin'  over  his  drink, 

82 


THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 

does  try  to  la'nch  some  sech  fable;  but  no  one  heeds 
him. 

"An*  yet,  for  obv'ous  causes,  Enright  decides  to 
c'llect  Bismark's  notions,  an*  learn  what  he  hears  an* 
sees;  an*  to  that  end  he  orders  Jack  Moore  to  go  an' 
round  him  up.  Jack,  all  onthinkin/  rides  over  to  the 
camp  of  Bismark  Dutch  an'  gives  the  p'lite  an*  yoosual 
salyootation. 

"' House!'  he  yells. 

"Nacherally,  any  right-minded  gent'd  expect  Bismark 
Dutch  to  appear,  an'  engage  in  a  peaceful  pow-wow. 
Jack's  some  amazed,  then,  an'  mighty  near  bein'  took 
off  his  gyard,  when  that  palsied  party  comes  chargin' 
out  the  door,  an'  blazes  away  at  him  frantic  with  a  rifle — 
the  same,  ondoubted,  wharwith  he's  been  pottin'  bobcats 
an'  prospectors. 

"  Jack's  been  shot  at  so  much,  he's  as  hard  to  hit  as  a 
loon  on  a  lake.  With  the  first  hostile  manoover  he's 
out  o'  the  saddle,  leavin'  the  bullet  to  t'ar  a  hole  through 
the  cantle.  The  rifle  Bismark  Dutch  is  usin'  is  one  of 
these  yere  new-fangled  high-power  guns,  a  'thirty- 
thirty*  they  calls  it.  Bein'  light  an'  little,  he  manages 
it  with  one  hand  same  as  if  it's  a  six-shooter.  He's 
reasonably  ackerate,  too,  an',  if  Jack'd  stayed  sot,  he'd 
have  made  a  center  shot. 

"When  Bismark  Dutch  opens  on  him  all  onannounced 
that  a-way,  Jack,  more  by  habit  than  reflection,  returns 
the  fire  an'  nails  that  one  remainin'  hand.  That  mem 
ber's  grippin'  the  rifle,  an*  the  bullet  mushrooms  on  the 
iron  an'  makes  rags  an'  fragments  of  it.  As  Peets  says 

83 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

later,  when  he  removes  Jack's  bandages  an,  puts  on 
fresh  ones  of  his  own: 

'"  Whatever  may  be  said  of  it  yereafter  as  ornamental, 
it  shore  won't  win  no  future  vogue  as  a  hand.' 

"  Jack  loads  Bismark  Dutch  onto  that  pioneer's  mule, 
an*  brings  him  wounded  into  camp;  the  hollow-eyed 
girl  trackin'  along  behind,  though  Jack  tries  to  make 
her  stay  back. 

'" Which  she  don't  seem  to  savey  none!'  says  Jack, 
when  he  relates  his  adventures;  'I  couldn't  do  nothin* 
with  her.  She  simply  deefies  me  with  them  big  eyes, 
an'  keeps  cominY 

"Enright  an'  the  rest  of  us  don't  have  much  luck  with 
Bismark  Dutch.  After  a  f'rocious  outburst  in  his  own 
furrin'  tongue,  which  is  so  much  like  lightnin'  that  it 
dazzles  without  illoominatin',  he  shets  up  as  wordless  as 
a  clam.  It's  as  plain  as  a  pike-staff  we  can't  wring  an 
other  syl'ble  out  of  him  with  fire,  water,  knife  an'  cord. 

"'What  this  outfit  needs,  Doc,'  exclaims  Enright, 
plumb  exasperated,  'is  a  res'dent  Dutchman.  I'll 
devote  my  first  leesure  to  indoocin'  one  to  come  yere  an' 
live.  Now  if  we  has  a  Dutchman  among  us,  not  like 
them  fiddlin'  dance  hall  mutton-heads,  but  one  that's 
tamed  to  our  customs,  we  might  elicit  somethin'  out  of 
this  old  ground-hawg.' 

"'Which  a  local  Dutchman,'  returns  the  acquiescent 
Peets,  'would  be  as  handy  as  a  pocket  in  a  shirt.' 

"While  nothin'  good  or  bad  is  to  be  torn  from  Bismark 
Dutch,  we  gathers  still  less  from  the  locoed  daughter. 
Faro  Nell  tries  her;  but  she  jest  sets  an'  stares  like  some 

84 


THE  CANYON  HOLD-UP 

frightened  animal.  As  for  Missis  Rucker,  that  deer- 
eyed  girl  evolves  screams  at  sight  of  her;  wharat  said 
matron  gets  indignant. 

"'Thar's  no  sort  o'  question/  says  Enright  at  last, 
his  tones  peevish  an'  fault-findin',  'but  what  we-alls 
ought  to  hang  this  Bismark  Dutch;  his  blastin'  away 
at  Jack  should  be  s'fficient  to  force  our  hands  to  sech 
proceedure.  But  what  gets  me  is  the  girl;  her  life's 
wropped  up  in  this  old  loonatic.  Besides,  once  we  sends 
him  skyward  she's  left  on  our  hands.  If  we  has  only 
Bismark  Dutch  to  contend  with,  our  paths  would  be 
open  an*  plain;  but  this  yere  maiden  of  onsettled  mind 
is  a  most  disturbin'  element!  It's  with  shame  I  confesses 
that  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Doc,  you  formyoolate  a 
play/ 

"'No,'  says  Peets;  'my  mind's  as  empty  as  a  church.' 

"'Well  then,'  declar's  Enright,  mighty  desp'rate, 
'I  thinks  we'd  better  take  the  hobbles  off,  an'  throw 
these  wild  folks  back  on  the  range.  As  to  this  Bismark 
Dutch  personal,  with  one  hand  dead  an'  the  other  done 
for,  I  reckon  he's  fired  his  last  shot.  It  ain't  as  if  he 
gets  Jack  neither.  Moreover,  if  we  swings  him  off,  that 
girl  with  her  loonatic  eyes'll  shore  pester  me  in  my  sleep.' 

"The  camp's  of  one  mind  with  Enright,  Jack  Moore 
applaudin'  speshul.  In  a  fortnight,  Peets  has  Bismark 
Dutch's  hand  tinkered  into  shape,  an'  him  an'  his  deer- 
eyed  daughter  lines  out  for  furrin'  climes.  It  looks,  too, 
like  he  makes  his  last  shipment — valyoo,  five  thousand; 
weight,  per  express  agent's  word,  twenty  pounds — the 
very  day  the  stage  is  stood  up.  Later,  we  locates  the 

85 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

hole;  it's  onder  the  fire-place  in  the  Mexican  Rock  House, 
an',  from  the  size,  I  figgers  he  harvests  about  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars.  Quite  a  killin! 

"'The  same/  explains  Peets,  'bein'  calk'lated  in  his 
native  land  to  put  Bismark  Dutch  'way  up  in  the  pic 
tures.  Mighty  likely  he  cuts  the  trail  that  leads  to  it, 
while  he's  ransackin'  'round  among  old  docyooments 
in  Chihuahua  for  things  to  write  about  them  Greasers.' 

"'Gents/  says  Boggs,  motionin'  to  Black  Jack, 
'most  folks,  acquainted  with  my  nacheral  av'rice,  '11 
go  'round  thinkin'  that  I  wishes  I'd  happened  up  on 
them  fifty  thousand  mese'f.  But,  on  thesquar'I  I'm  sort 
o'  glad  it's  that  locoed  old  Dutchman  an'  his  girl.' 

'"Yo  tambien,  Dan!'  whispers  Faro  Nell,  as  she 
reaches  round  an'  squeezes  Boggs'  hand." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   POPULAR   SOURNESS 

NO  gent,  onless  locoed,  would  ever  put  a  bet 
on  the  public."  My  old  friend  spoke  with 
warmth,  at  the  same  time  throwing  down 
a  newspaper  from  which  the  glaring  headline,  "  Over 
throw  of  a  Popular  Idol,"  stared  out.  "Not,"  he  con 
tinued,  lapsing  into  his  customary  manner  of  calm 
not  to  say  benign  philosophy — "not  that  I'm  likely  to 
get  caught  out  on  any  sech  limb  personal,  me  makin' 
it  an  onbreakable  roole  to  bet  on  nothin'  that  can  talk. 
Animals  is  different.  A  party  who  wagers  his  riches 
on  animals,  gets  somethin'  reesemblin'  an  even  break  for 
his  money.  Bein'  enable  to  talk  that  a-way,  animals  is 
limited  in  their  mootual  commoonications.  That  saves 
'em  from  given'  or  takin'  advice,  an'  leaves  it  possible  for 
gents  of  jedgment  to  half  way  figger  on  whatever  they'll 
do  next." 

"  Evidently,  you  don't  believe  deeply  in  the  wisdom  of 
man,"  said  I. 

"No,  I  don't  regyard  hoomanity  as  so  plumb  wise. 
You-all  could  take  me  into  the  halls  of  Congress,  an' 
plant  me  in  the  legislatif  foreground  as  a  question;  you 
might  get  a  member  to  introdooce  a  resolootion  sayin' 
I'm  a  white  man  without  a  cross.  Instantly,  an  opp'- 

87 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

sition  will  take  the  floor,  claimin'  I'm  a  Injun;  an'  I'll 
play  in  a  heap  of  luck  if  a  third  party  don't  form  for  the 
purpose  of  showin'  I'm  a  Mexican.  All  the  time,  too, 
that  them  statesmen  is  wranglin'  over  my  tribe  an*  strain, 
thar  won't  be  a  mule  between  the  oceans,  but  would 
know  I'm  white  at  the  drop  of  the  hat — know  it  in  the 
dark. 

"Shore,  to  my  pore  thinkin'  animals  has  a  heap  more 
savey  than  folks.  Thar's  the  elk.  When  he  allows 
he'll  go  to  bed  some,  he  begins  negotiations  by  walkin' 
in  a  half-njile  circle.  Then  he  marches  into  the  safe 
center  of  the  circle,  plunks  himse'f  down,  an*  is  as  sound 
asleep  as  a  tree  in  a  moment — all  but  his  nose.  Bein' 
inside  that  circle,  if  a  wolf  or  a  man  or  a  mountain  lion  is 
followin'  his  trail,  no  matter  how  the  wind  shifts,  his  nose 
gives  him  warnin'.  Even  a  mule-eared  deer,  makin' 
a  perpetyooal  skirmish  line  of  his  nose,  goes  feedin'  up 
the  wind.  Do  folks  ?  As  often  as  otherwise  they  makes 
a  speshulty  of  gettin*  the  breeze  to  their  ignorant  backs; 
an'  go  romancin'  off  into  the  teeth  of  trouble,  talkin' 
about  their  'reasonin'  powers,'  an'  feelin'  sorry  for  what 
they  calls  the  'lower  animals.' 

"At  that,  you're  not  to  go  followin'  off  no  wrong  wagon 
track,  an*  assoome  that  animals,  as  eevents  shift,  don't 
shift  their  instincts  to  match  'em.  When  every  Injun 
goes  shootin'  bows  an'  arrers,  an'  every  white  gent  packs 
a  squirrel  rifle,  bullets  sixty  to  the  pound,  grizzly  b'ars,  as 
I  once  tells  you  former,  treats  said  armaments  with  dis 
dain.  The  grizzlies  knows  thay  can't  be  hurt  none  by 
sech  footile  weepons;  an',  far  from  bein' worried  by  the 

88 


THE  POPULAR  SOURNESS 

'Westward  ho ! '  of  the  white  man,  they  regyards  emigrants 
an*  their  families  with  satisfaction,  as  additions  to  the  vis'- 
ble  food  supply.  Later,  when  we  gets  to  work  on  'em  with 
them  high-power  big-bore  guns,  an*  knocks  'em  over  too 
dead  to  skin,  grizzlies  changes  utter.  To-day  you-all 
couldn't  get  clost  enough  to  a  grizzle  to  give  him  a  roast 
apple.  At  the  sight  of  innocent  papooses,  even,  he  goes 
riotin'  off  through  the  bresh,  up  hill  an'  down  dale,  like 
his  r'ar's  afire. 

"No;  as  I  was  observin*  when  I  gets  deeflected  onto 
b'ars,  folks  ain't  so  plumb  sagacious — not  even  Wolfville 
folks.  Back  in  the  old  days,  if  the  stage  breaks  down  on 
account  of  rotten  axles,  do  we-alls  cuss  out  the  company  ? 
Not  at  all ;  we  burns  the  ground  around  Old  Monte,  when 
even  the  prairie  dogs  onderstands  how  that  pore  old 
slave  of  alcohol  ain't  no  more  reesponsible  for  rotten 
axles  than  for  the  quality  of  Red  Light  nose-paint. 

"Which  this  partic'lar  victim  of  pop'lar  wrath" — here 
the  old  gentleman  tossed  a  scornful  thumb  towards  the 
paper,  where  it  lay  on  the  floor — "is  a  office  holder.  He 
ain't  entitled  to  no  sympathy,  for  if  he  had  owned  a  lick 
of  sense  he  could  have  seen  his  downfall  comin'.  The 
finish  of  office  holders  is  allers  alike;  it's  the  finish  of  the 
army  mule.  Each  of  'em  is  some  day  led  out  all  onex- 
pected,  an'  branded  'I.  C.'  which  means  'Inspected  an* 
condemned,'  an'  figgertively  speakin'  your  mule  an'  your 
office  holder  rots  down  right  thar." 

"Did  you  ever  have  an  ambition  to  hold  office?"  I 
asked,  more  with  a  purpose  to  tease  than  elicit  informa 
tion. 

7  89 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Me  hold  office?  I'd  sooner  hold  a  baby!  Not 
that  I  aims  to  speak  disparagin'  of  infants  neither,  deemin' 
'em  as  roobies  above  price.  But  nacherally  you-all 
saveys  that  me  bein'  a  bachelor,  an*  tharfore  onmarried 
a  whole  lot,  babies  in  my  case  is  barred. 

"Speakin'  of  office  holders,  I  can't  say  I've  a  heap  of 
use  for  'em.  Office  holders,  taken  in  the  herd,  is  so 
plumb  egreegious — doin'  so  little  towards  he'pin'  the 
public,  while  allowin'  they'll  do  so  much.  At  that  I 
don't  reckon  it's  all  their  fault.  A  man — slam  him  on 
the  scales  an'  weigh  him — is  a  mighty  puny  creature. 
The  public,  as  ag'inst  this,  is  mighty  big;  an'  for  him  to  go 
talkin*  of  he'pin'  the  public  is  as  though  he  talks  of  he'pin' 
the  Mississippi.  The  public  goes  pirootin*  into  a  'lec 
tion,  an'  prodooces  a  gov'nor;  an'  the  transaction  ree- 
minds  me  a  heap  of  that  hill  in  the  fables,  which  goes 
rockin'  an'  weavin'  all  over  the  pampas,  a-skeerin' 
everybody  to  death,  an'  winds  up  its  onseemly  ghost- 
dancin'  by  bringin'  forth  a  mouse.  Gov'nor!  Does 
'lectin'  some  ornery  no-'count  party  to  be  gov'nor  render 
him  less  ornery?  Which  you-all  might  as  well  throw  a 
cow-saddle  onto  a  jack-rabbit,  thinkin'  to  make  a  mus 
tang  of  it! 

"Take  the  biggest  gent  on  the  list,  an'  construct  a 
gov'nor  of  him:  whatever  can  he  do?  The  job's  so 
gigantic,  an'  he's  so  plumb  little,  you'll  find  him  as  he'p- 
less  to  change  the  eternal  face  of  things  as  though  you'd 
made  him  gov'nor  of  a  mountain.  The  best  he  gets  out 
of  it  will  mebby  be  to  scratch  his  hon'rable  name  on  the 
onockepied  face  of  some  rock  ledge;  an'  at  that  the  moss'll 

90 


THE  POPULAR  SOURNESS 

overgrow  it  in  a  week  an'  blot  it  out.  The  next  gent  to 
climb  the  hill  won't  even  be  able  to  make  out  his  'nitials. 

"It's  my  notion,"  went  on  the  old  gentleman,  heaving 
a  sigh — "it's  my  notion,  foaled  of  years  of  experience, 
that  the  biggest  among  us  might  better  moderate  his 
se'f-esteem.  He  can  make  up  his  mind  he's  shore  power 
less  to  give  his  hour  a  lift  to  any  great  extent.  An'  then 
ag'in,  it  ain't  needed  none;  it's  too  much  like  givin' 
Providence  a  lift.  That  gent  comes  nearest  to  gettin'  his 
own  inconsequential  measure,  who  concloods  that, 
when  he's  won  out  his  blankets  an*  his  three  feeds  a  day, 
together  with  a  occasional  drink,  he's  beat  this  game 
called  livin'  for  about  all  he's  goin'  to  get. 

"  He'p  the  public  ?  Even  if  you  could,  it  wouldn't  be 
worth  while.  You'd  about  wind  up  at  the  leetle  eend  of 
the  horn,  same  as  this  office-holdin'  tarrapin  in  the  noos- 
paper.  Publics  is  ongrateful.  He'pin'  the  public  out 
of  a  hole,  is  as  oncertain  as  he'pin'  a  b'ar  out  of  a  hole; 
it's  bloo  chips  to  white  that  the  first  offishul  act  of 
either'll  be  to  chaw  you  up. 

"As  aidin'  me  to  this  concloosion,  I  sees  somethin'  of 
the  sort  come  off  in  the  c'rreer  of  Doc  Peets.  This  is 
'way  back  yonder,  when  Wolfville  is  cuttin'  its  milk  teeth, 
an'  prior  to  the  dawnin'  of  sech  evidences  of  progress  as 
the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House,  an'  Colonel  Sterett's  Daily 
Coyote.  It's  before  the  Washwoman's  War,  an'  ante 
dates  the  nuptials  of  Tucson  Jennie  with  Dave  Tutt  by 
years. 

"What's  the  story?  It  don't  amount  to  much,  an* 
is  valyooable  only  as  'llustratin'  what  I  says  on  the 

91 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

footility,  not  to  mention  the  peril,  of  tryin'  to  turn  a  com- 
moonal  trick.  Peets  cuts  loose  to  he'p  the  public;  an* 
the  first  move  he  gets  a  stack  down  wrong,  an'  jest 
manages  to  round  on  the  play  in  time  to  keep  himse'f 
from  bein'  swept  plumb  off  the  board.  You-all  has  heard 
me  yeretofore  alloode  to  Peets,  as  the  best  eddicated  an' 
deepest  sharp  in  the  territory.  What  I'm  to  reelate  is 
not  to  be  took  ag'inst  them  utterances.  Peets  is  young 
when  the  eepisode  occurs;  later,  when  years  has  come  an' 
gone  an'  thar's  a  pretty  hefty  accumyoolation  of  rings 
at  the  base  of  Peets'  horns,  you-all  couldn't  have  coaxed 
him  into  no  sech  trap,  not  for  gold  an'  precious  stones. 

"  It  has  its  beginnin'  in  the  comin'  to  town  of  Tacoma 
Tom,  an'  the  subsequent  discovery  of  that  kyard-expert 
dead  out  back  of  the  dance  hall,  a  bullet  through  his 
back.  It  shore  looks  like  somebody's  been  objectin' 
to  Tacoma  with  a  gun.  Thar  ain't  so  much  as  a  whisper 
of  suspicion  p'intin'  to  the  partic'lar  sport  who  thus 
finds  fault  with  Tacoma,  or  what  for.  Wolfville  is  baf 
fled  complete. 

"This  bein'  left  in  the  dark,  op'rates  to  rub  the  public 
fur  the  wrong  way.  Not  that  Wolfville  feels  as  though  it 
can't  keep  house  without  deceased;  at  best  he's  but  a 
fleetin'  form  of  tinhorn  hold-up,  of  no  social  standin', 
an'  it's  apples  to  ashes  the  stranglers  would  have  had 
Jack  Moore  run  him  out  o'  camp  inside  a  week.  Still, 
it's  a  case  of  a  party  gettin'  downed,  an'  the  public's 
been  eddicated  to  at  least  expect  a  solootion,  even  if 
thar  ain't  no  lynchin'.  In  this  instance  the  public  don't 
get  neither;  wharf  ore  it  takes  to  frettin'  a  little  onder  the 

92 


THE  POPULAR  SOURNESS 

quiet  collar.  Also,  Red  Dog  goes  to  makin*  reemarks; 
an'  this  last  so  shames  the  more  morbid  sperits,  like 
Boggs,  they  begins  to  talk  of  movin'  to  Tucson. 

"  While  public  feelin'  is  thus  strained,  the  general  eye 
sort  o'  takes  to  focusin'  on  a  Mexican,  who's  been  hangin' 
out  over  to  the  corrals  for  about  a  useless  month.  It 
grows  to  be  the  common  view  that  this  yere  Mexican 
may  be  spared  from  among  us,  without  upsettin'  the 
whole  Wolfville  frame-work.  Troo,  thar's  nothin'  to 
connect  him  with  the  bumpin'  off  of  Tacoma,  except 
he's  a  Mexican;  but  in  a  commoonity  which  favors  hang- 
in'  folks  not  so  much  for  what  they  do  as  for  what  they  are, 
this  saddle-colored  fact  of  a  sunburned  nationality  goes 
some  distance.  The  boys  takes  to  murmurin*  among 
themselves,  as  they  slops  out  their  Old  Jordan  at  the 
Red  Light  counter,  that  to  hang  said  Mexican  to  the 
windmill  wouldn't  hurt  that  water-drawin'  contraption 
a  little  bit.  Thar's  even  people  who  claims  it's  calk'l- 
ated  for  the  windmill's  embellishment. 

"The  Mexican  himse'f  must  have  been  one  of  them 
mind-readers;  for,  while  the  whisper  yoonitin'  him  to  the 
windmill  goes  meanderin'  up  an*  down,  he  of  a  sudden 
disappears  entire.  This  ontoward  evaporation  of  the 
Mexican,  at  the  only  time  he's  reely  needed,  is  regyarded 
as  a  hoss  on  the  camp;  an'  with  that,  public  feelin'  takes 
on  a  more  exasperatin'  edge  than  prior.  Likewise, 
Red  Dog  is  thar  with  the  yoosual  barbed  bluff,  to  the 
insultin'  effect  that  Wolfville  manages  its  kyards  so 
clumsy,  that  even  a  blinded  greaser  reads  its  hand. 

"  It's  while  the  pop'lar  temper  is  thus  morose,  that  Old 

93 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Man  Enright  an*  Doc  Peets  comes  together  casyooal  in 
the  New  York  Store. 

"'What's  the  matter  with  the  camp,  Sam?'  asks 
Peets.  He's  payin'  for  a  bloo  shirt,  with  pearl  buttons, 
he's  bought.  'It  looks  as  though  the  outfit's  on  a  dead 
kyard.' 

"  Peets'  tones  is  anxious.  When  it  comes  to  settin'  up 
all  night  with  Wolfville,  an'  rockin'  its  cradle  an'  warmin' 
its  milk,  give  me  Peets! 

"'Somethin'  ought  to  be  done,'  he  continyoos.  'As 
the  play  stands,  the  pop'lar  sperit — once  so  proud  an' 
high — is  slowly  but  shorely  boggin'  down.' 

"'It's  Tacoma  gettin'  beefed,'  says  Enright,  'an'  our 
omittin'  to  stretch  that  corral  greaser.  Thar's  a  bet  we 
overlooks,  Doc!  We  never  should  have  let  that  felon 
get  away.' 

"'But  both  of  us,'  observes  Peets,  'you-all  as  chief  of 
the  vig'lance  committee,  an'  me  as  a  member  in  full 
standin',  lives  well  aware  thar  ain't  the  shadow  of  evidence 
that  the  Mexican  wipes  out  Tacoma.' 

"'None  the  less,'  returns  Enright,  'the  boys  sort  o' 
lotted  on  a  lynchin'.  You  saveys,  Doc,  that  it  ain't 
so  important  to  hang  the  right  gent,  as  to  hang  some  gent 
when  looked  for.  Besides,  to  let  a  Mexican  run  out  from 
between  our  fingers,  that  a-way,  is  mortifyin'  to  the 
camp's  se'f-love.' 

"'Well,'  reemarks  Peets,  'somethin'  to  arouse  public 
enthoosiasm  is  the  imperatif  demand.  If  we-all  permits 
the  boys  to  go  gloomin'  'round  in  their  present  frame, 
they'll  shore  take  to  chewin'  one  another's  mane.' 

94 


THE  POPULAR  SOURNESS 

"Enright  nods  assent,  but  offers  no  su'gestions. 

"'See  yere!'  exclaims  Peets,  after  a  pause — Peets 
is  more  fertile  than  Enright — 'I've  roped  onto  an  idee. 
The  games  is  dead  at  this  hour;  suppose  we  rounds  up  the 
camp  for  a  talk.  A  pow-wow,  though  nothin'  results, 
is  calk'lated  to  prodooce  a  soothin'  effect.' 

"'Which  I'm  agree'ble,'  remarks  Enright;  'but  how 
be  we  goin'  to  convene  'em?  Back  in  Tennessee,  in 
my  natif  village  of  Pineknot,  we  used  to  ring  the  town 
bell.  Wolfville  bein'  deevoid  of  town  bells,  I  takes  it  the 
next  best  move  is  for  me  to  s'anter  to  the  r'ar  door,  an' 
shake  the  loads  out  o'  my  gun.  That'll  excite  pop'lar 
cur'osity;  the  boys'll  come  a-runnin'  to  see  who  gets  it.' 

"Enright  reetires  to  the  back  door,  an'  bangs  away 
some  frantic  three  or  four  times  with  his  six-shooter. 
The  day  bein'  quiet,  the  effect  is  plenty  vivacious;  every 
body  comes  t'arin'  over  all  spraddled  out.  That  is 
every  gent  but  Black  Jack  comes  t'arin';  him  bein'  on 
watch  at  the  Red  Light,  he  don't  feel  free  to  leave  the 
bar. 

''Any  one  creased?'  asks  Dave  Tutt,  out  o'  breath 
an'  pantin'. 

' '  None  whatever,'  replies  Peets,  easy  an'  suave.  Then 
lettin'  on  he  don't  notice  the  disapp'intment  that  spreads 
itse'f  from  face  to  face,  he  proceeds:  'This  yere  is  a 
bloodless  foosilade,  an'  is  resorted  to  as  a  means  of  con- 
vokin'  the  best  minds  of  the  camp.  Thar's  a  subject 
of  common  interest  to  be  proposed;  an'  to  get  for'ard 
in  order  my  motion  is  that  our  honored  leader,  Mister 
Enright,  be  requested  to  preeside.' 

95 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

'"Hold  on  a  minute/  interjects  Boggs,  'ontil  I  signs 
up  to  Black  Jack  thar  ain't  no  corpses.  He's  that  in 
quisitive,  an'  him  bein'  tied  to  his  dooties  as  barkeep 
that  a-way,  he'd  eat  his  heart  out  if  I  don't.' " 


CHAPTER  X 


BY  the  time  Boggs  relieves  Black  Jack,  the 
meetin'  is  in  line,  Enright  employin'  a  dry- 
goods  box  as  desk,  an'  the  audience  camped 
about  permiscus  on  crates  an*  boxes.  Faro  Nell,  whose 
love  of  Wolfville  is  second  only  to  Peets',  has  a  front  seat. 

"When  the  meetings  ready,  Peets  arises  an*  assoomes 
the  pressure. 

"'As  author  conj'intly  with  the  chaV — yere  Peets 
bows  p'litely  to  Enright — 'of  this  yere  deemonstration, 
I  takes  it  on  myse'f  with  the  hon'rable  chaYs  permission, 
to  briefly  state  its  objecks.' 

"'Let  her  roll!'  says  Enright,  gently  tappin*  on  the 
dry-goods  box  with  his  yoosual  gavel,  the  same  bein'  a 
Colt's-45. 

" '  Gents/  resoomes  Peets,  castin'  a  beamin'  eye  about 
the  scene,  'I  desires  to  avoid  all  reference  to  recent  events 
of  a  harrowin'  nacher,  concernin'  the  late  Tacoma  Tom 
an*  a  Mexican  person  we  don't  lynch;  an*  so,  comin' 
squar'  down  to  the  turn,  I  ventures  the  reemark  that  thar's 
somethin'  wrong  with  Wolfville.  As  affairs  stand,  our 
pride  is  oozin'  away,  our  brotherly  love  is  turnin'  sour, 
our  sperit  is  peterin',  an',  the  way  we're  p'intin'  out,  his- 
t'ry  will  one  day  jestify  the  low  reemarks  which  Red  Dog 
is  makin'  at  our  expense.  Havin'  said  so  much,  an'  be- 

97 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

fore  advancin'   further,  gents,  let  me  pause  an'  invite 
your  views/ 

"'Which  you-all  hears  the  Doc,'  says  Enright,  softly 
beatin'  on  the  box  like  he's  keepin'  time  to  music.  'Any 
gent  with  views  should  pour  'em  forth.  Red  Dog  has 
its  envious  eye  on  this  outfit;  it  will  take  advantage  of  any 
weakenin'.  So  far  Red  Dog  has  been  out-lucked,  out- 
dealt,  out-held  an'  out-played;  Wolfville  has  downed 
her  on  the  deal  an'  on  the  draw.  But  to  make  the  footure 
like  the  past,  deemands  that  we  act  promptly  an'  in  yoon- 
ison,  an'  give  the  sityooation,  morally  speakin',  the  best 
whirl  of  the  wheel.' 

" '  Recognizin','  observes  Dave  Tutt,  risin'  to  his  feet, 
'the  trooth  of  what  the  Doc  has  said,  an'  regyardin' 
that  gent  as  possessin'  the  wisdom  of  serpents,  I  desires 
to  j'ine  with  him  in  sayin'  somethin'  public  must  be  did, 
I  asks  tharfore,  whatever  for  a  play  would  it  be  for  us  to 
rope  up  one  of  these  yere  lecture  sharps?  Thar's  a 
maverick  of  that  breed  in  Tucson  now;  an',  if  Wolfville 
says  the  word,  I'll  stampede  over  to-morry  an'  tie  him 
down.  He  could  lecture  in  Hamilton's  dance  hall, 
an'  to  my  jedgment  it  would  look  like  a  mighty  mee- 
tropolitan  racket.' 

'"Whatever  is  this  shorthorn  lecturin'  on?'  asks  Jack 
Moore. 

"'Roosia,'  says  Tutt.  'He's  got  maps,  an'  books 
an'  the  entire  lay-out  from  deal  box  to  check  rack. 
Folks  as  ought  to  know,  gives  it  out  cold  that  he  turns  as 
strong  a  game  for  as  high  a  limit,  as  any  lecturer  they 
ever  goes  ag'inst.' 

98 


DOC  PEETS'  ERROR 

" '  Onder  other  an*  what  one  might  deescribe  as  a  more 
concrete  condition  of  public  feelinY  interjects  Peets, 
'  thar  could  be  nothin'  better  than  the  suggestion  of  Mister 
Tutt.  But  my  fear  is  that  Wolfville  ain't  in  no  proper 
mood  for  lectures.  What  we  needs  is  not  so  much  a 
lecture,  which  is  for  a  day,  but  somethin'  lastin',  sech  as 
the  example  of  a  reefined  an*  exalted  home-life  blossom- 
in'  in  our  midst.  What  the  hour  pines  for  is  the  ameel- 
oratin*  an*  mollifyin'  inflooence  of  an  elevated  woman 
hood.  Shore,  we  has  our  little  fav'rite,  Faro  Nell,  an* 
the  gent  never  jingles  a  spur  in  Wolfville  who  wouldn't 
ride  his  pony  to  death  in  her  behalf.  But  Nell's  young — 
merely  a  yearlin'  like.  What  our  wants  require  is  the 
picture  of  a  happy  household,  wharof  the  feminine  head, 
in  the  triple  role  of  woman,  wife  an'  mother,  while  cherish- 
in'  an'  carin'  for  her  husband,  sheds  likewise  a  beenign 
ray  for  us.' 

"'Rah!  for  Doc  Peets!'  cries  Faro  Nell,  wavin' 
her  stetson.  Then,  to  Cherokee,  who's  planted  near: 
'Ain't  the  Doc  jest  splendid?' 

"Cherokee  smiles  but  says  nothin',  bein'  a  silent  sharp. 

"Pausin',  says  Peets,  'to  thank  our  beautiful  young 
town's  lady  for  that  cheer,  I  surges  on  to  say  I  learns 
from  first  sources,  indeed  from  the  gent  himse'f  that  one 
of  our  worthiest  citizens,  none  other  in  trooth  than  Abilene 
Davis,  well  an'  fav'rably  known  as  blacksmith  at  the 
stage  station,  has  a  lovely  wife  in  Kansas.  The  town 
so  forchoonate  as  to  be  her  residence  is  Caldwell.  I  thar- 
fore  recommends,  as  the  sense  of  the  meetin',  that  Mister 
Davis  bring  on  this  Caldwell  lady,  to  reign  over  his  domes- 

99 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

tic  hearth.  The  O.  K.  Restauraw,  bein'  the  hostelry 
wharat  Mister  Davis  munches  his  daily  chili-con-carne , 
will  lose  a  boarder;  but  Missis  Rucker,  who  conducts  it, 
will  not  reepine  for  that.  What  is  the  O.  K.  Restauraw's 
loss  will  be  Wolfville's  immortal  gain,  an'  for  Wolfville 
Missis  R.  is  proud  to  make  a  sacrifice.  Mister  Cha'rman, 
my  recommendation  takes  the  form  of  a  motion/ 

"'Which  said  motion/  observes  Enright,  'onless  I 
hears  a  protest,  goes  as  it  lays.  Thar  bein'  no  objections, 
the  cha'r  declares  it  to  be  the  commands  of  this  meetin* 
that  Abilene  bring  on  his  wife.' 

" 'See  yere,  Mister  Pres'dent,'  breaks  in  Abilene, lookin* 
some  hectic  an'  wild,  'as  the  he'pless  victim  of  this 
plunge  on  the  part  of  the  body  pol'tic,  I  rises  to  ask  do 
my  feelin's  count  ?  Which  if  I  ain't  in  this — if  it's  con 
sidered  the  c'rrect  dido  to  lay  waste  a  party  who  in  his 
lowly  way  is  doin'  his  public  an'  his  private  best  to  play 
a  pore  hand  well,  why!  say  so  an'  I'll  pack  in.  Im- 
pugnin*  no  gent's  motives,  I'm  still  free  to  reemark  that 
these  yere  proceedin's  looks  like  the  offspring  of  crim'nal 
caprice.' 

"'I  will  call  the  gent's  attention,'  observes  Enright, 
a  heap  dignified,  'to  the  fact  that  thar's  no  disp'sition  to 
crowd  his  hand,  or  force  a  play  to  which  he  seems  averse. 
If  from  any  knowledge  we  supposes  we  entertains,  of  the 
possession  on  his  part  of  a  sperit  which  might  rise  to  the 
aid  of  a  gen'ral  need — I  shore  hopes  I  makes  my  meanin' 
plain — we  over-deals  the  kyards,  all  we  can  do  is  'pologize, 
throw  our  hands  in  the  center,  an*  shuffle  an'  deal  ag'in.' 

"'Not  at  all,'  breaks  in  Abilene,  not  likin'  the  gray 

100 


DOC  PEETS'  ERROR 

gleam  in  Enright's  eye;  'an*  no  offence  to  be  given,  took 
nor  meant.  Let  me  say  I  has  the  highest  respect  for 
the  cha'r,  personal.  Likewise,  I  freequent  observes  that 
I  looks  on  Doc  Peets  as  among  the  best  feachures  of 
Arizona.  But  this  yere  dash  into  my  fam'ly  life  needs  to 
be  thought  out.  You-all  don't  know  the  lady;  which,  she 
bein'  my  wife,  I  ain't  puttin'  on  no  dog  when  I  says  I  do.' 

"'Does  she  look  like  me,  Abilene?'  chirps  up  Faro 
Nell. 

"'Not  necessar'ly,  Nell/  says  Abilene.  'To  be  shore 
I  ain't  basked  none  recent  in  her  s'ciety,  an'  mem'ry  may 
be  blurred,  but  as  I  recalls  she  looks  a  whole  lot  like  an 
Injun  uprisin'.  None  the  less,  she's  as  excellent  a  lady 
as  ever  fondles  a  flapjack;  I'll  say  that!  Only  gents' — 
an'  yere  Abilene's  tones  takes  on  a  pleadin'  sound — 'she's 
uppish;  that's  whatever,  she's  shore  uppish!  I  might 
add,'  continyoos  Abilene,  in  a  deprecatory  'pologetic  way, 
'that  inasmuch  as  I  wasn't  jest  lookin'  for  the  camp  to 
turn  to  me  in  its  hour  of  need,  this  proposal  to  transplant 
my  wife  to  Wolfville  is  an  honor  as  onexpected  as  a  rattle 
snake  in  a  roll  of  blankets.  I'm  the  last  sport  to  lay  down 
on  a  dooty,  when  the  same's  sawed  off  on  me  proper;  still, 
I  thinks  we  ought  to  approach  this  enterprise  plenty  con- 
serv'tive.  My  wife  has  her  idees ;  an'  I'm  afraid  she  won't 
in  some  reespecks  endorse  our  Wolfville  ways.  An', 
gents,  if  she  should  take  a  notion  ag'in  us,  she's  a  force 
to  make  itse'f  felt.  Wharfore,  in  case  you  insists  on 
carryin'  out  your  locoed  designs,  you  mustn't  blame  me 
yereafter  if  you  finds  that,  in  thus  pitchin'  camp  in  the 
dark,  you've  spread  your  blankets  on  a  ant-hill.' 

101 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'Mr.  Cha'rman,'  observes  Boggs,  who's  been  wearin' 
a  troubled  look,  like  somethings  preyin'  on  his  mind, 
'how  would  it  be  to  begin  by  merely  invitin'  Abilene's 
wife  to  come  yere  on  a  visit  ?  After  what  Abilene  says, 
I  deems  it  no  more  than  proodence  to  manage  a  hold 
out  in  our  favor  if  we  can.' 

"'Gents/  breaks  in  Abilene,  'it  shore  seems  onfair  for 
all  Wolfville  to  go  pilin'  itse'f  up  on  me,  when  yere's 
Texas  Thompson  who  more'n  once  mentions  a  wife  of 
his  who's  livin'  down  Laredo  way.' 

"'Stop  the  deal!'  cries  Texas,  as  sharp  as  the  crack 
of  a  pistol.  'I  don't  aim  to  go  trackin'  off  into  no  ex 
planations;  I  contents  myse'f  with  announcin'  that  so 
shore  as  Wolfville  says  "Wife"  to  me,  I'll  back  for  a 
corner  an'  pull  a  gun:'  An'  yere  Texas  certainly  does 
look  a  heap  grim. 

"'Goin'  to  the  amendment,'  remarks  Peets,  ignorin' 
the  outbreak  of  Texas,  'of  Mister  Boggs,  that  we  asks 
Abilene's  wife  yere  on  a  visit,  let  me  say  I  cheerfully 
adopts  the  same.  But  nothin'  niggardly,  nothin'  mean, 
mind  you!  Let  Abilene  invite  his  wife  for  say  a  year — 
let  him  do  that,  an'  I  guarantees  the  outcome.  Once  the 
lady  stacks  up  ag'inst  our  daily  game,  an'  triumphs 
through  a  deal  or  two,  she'll  never  give  us  up.  Mister 
Cha'rman,  as  I  moves  we  adjourn  to  the  Red  Light,  let 
me  say  I  holds  the  present  to  be  the  dawnin*  of  a  new 
era.'  ' 

"  Boggs,  on  his  way  to  the  Red  Light,  lays  b'ar  to  Tutt 
an'  me,  private,  why  he  wears  that  harassed  air  doorin* 
the  discussion. 

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DOC  PEETS'  ERROR 

"'It's  because  Peets  is  makin'  the  mistake  of  his  life, 
explains  Boggs.  'Nacherally,  I  couldn't  onfold  at  the 
time,  Abilene  bein'  thar;  it  ain't  for  me  to  go  plowin' 
up  no  gent's  feelin's,  an*  him  settin*  in  hard  luck.  But, 
between  us  I've  seen  this  yere  matron,  when  I'm  drivin' 
cattle  up  from  Texas  into  Caldwell.' 

"'What  for  a  lookin'  seraph  is  she?'  asks  Tutt. 

" ' Onderstand,'  replies  Boggs,  'I've  allers  held  that 
no  lady's  ugly,  an*  I  holds  so  now.  I'm  obleeged  to  con 
fess,  however,  that  Abilene's  wife  has  a  disadvantageous 
face.  Her  profile  is  too  jagged — too  much  like  the  side 
view  of  a  rip-saw.' 

'"Some  ladies/  says  Tutt,  him  bein'  a  born  optimist, 
'  makes  up  in  style  what  they're  shy  on  looks.' 

"'I  hates  to  close  the  door  of  hope/  returns  Boggs, 
'  but  I  don't  reckon,  Dave,  your  reemark  goes  as  to  Abi 
lene's  wife.  Style  ain't  her  long  suite  no  more'n  looks; 
the  trooth  is  she  dresses  kind  o'  plain.  The  time  I  sees 
her,  the  waist  of  her  frock's  made  out  of  a  flour  sack; 
I  knows,  because  it  says  on  it  in  bloo  letters,  "Rose  of  the 
Walnut  Valley.  XXX.  Fifty  pounds,"  bein'  the  brand 
we  uses  in  our  chuck  wagon.' 

"It's  enough  to  wring  tears  from  a  Apache,  the  way 
Abilene  resigns  himse'f  to  be  reyoonited  with  his  fam'ly. 
Jest  as  I  knows  of  a  hoss-thief  person,  who's  bein'  swung 
off  by  the  stranglers,  fittin'  the  lariat  to  his  own  neck 
an'  b'arin'  a  he'pin'  hand  at  his  own  lynchin',  so  Abilene 
sends  his  wife  the  message  to  come  on.  She  answers 
back  she'll  be  with  us  in  a  month;  wharupon  everybody 
dons  a  expectant  look,  like  somethin'  thrillin'  is  on  its 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

way — that  is,  everybody  except  Abilene  who  is  melan- 
cholly,  an'  Texas  who  is  hostile. 

"Texas,  who's  more  or  less  loser  in  a  wedded  way 
himse'f,  cannot  reepress  his  feelin's  of  contempt  for 
what's  goin'  on.  '  If  that  Abilene/  says  Texas, '  possesses 
the  spunk  of  horned  toads,  he'd  shore  get  a  brace  of  guns 
an'  give  this  band  of  marplots  a  battle.' 

"Peets  grows  as  cocky  an'  confident  as  a  dozen  jay 
birds.  'It's  allers  that  way,  Sam,'  he  says  to  Enright, 
payin'  himse'f  a  compliment;  'a  gent's  cleverest  thoughts 
comes  when  he's  workin'  for  public  good.' 

"  'This  yere  hand  ain't  played  out,  Doc,'  returns  En- 
right;  an*  while  his  manner  is  soft  an'  easy,  thar's  in  it 
the  flicker  of  a  warnin'. 

"The  eeventful  day  draws  round;  Abilene  goes  out  on 
the  trail  a  piece  to  meet  his  wife,  an'  sort  o'  break  the 
effect.  When  the  stage  swings  into  the  post-office, 
the  entire  outfit  is  thar  to  start  Abilene's  wife  out  with 
good  impressions.  Excuse  me  shudderin'  some;  but  she's 
shore  a  iron-visaged  heroine! 

"As  Abilene  he'ps  her  out  of  the  coach,  which  feat 
he  pulls  off  like  he's  handlin'  a  box  of  dynamite,  Peets 
steps  for'ard  an'  takes  off  his  hat. 

"  'Missis  Davis,  I  believe?'  he  says. 

"Whoever  is  this  yere  inebriated  loafer,  Mister  Davis  ?' 
deemands  the  lady,glarin'  at  Peets.  '  No  friend  of  yours, 
I  hopes.  He  looks  like  he  steals  hosses  for  a  KvinV 
Then,  to  Peets,  who's  bowin'  an'  scrapin',  tryin'  to  get 
p'lite  action;  'Go  way,  you  insultin'  reprobate!  Don't 
you  das't  to  offer  me  no  roodness!' 

104 


DOC  PEETS'  ERROR 

" '  I  don't  aim  none/  says  Old  Monte,  as  later  we  gathers 
about  him,  askin'  questions,  'to  go  blowin'  about  the 
private  affairs  of  my  passengers,  holdin'  it  onprofessional; 
but,  not  to  go  no  further  gents,  I  hopes  never  to  taste 
licker  ag'in  if  she  don't  give  Abilene  a  lickin'  over  back 
in  the  canyon.  That's  straight;  she  makes  him  yelp 
like  a  coyote!' 

"If  ever  a  party  is  jestified  of  eevents  it's  Abilene. 
In  less'n  a  week,  that  wife  we  imports  for  him  has  Wolf- 
ville  walkin'  in  a  circle.  Thar  ain't  a  gent  among  us 
who's  got  strength  of  char'cter  enough,  to  even  stay  in 
the  street  when  she  shows  up.  The  whole  town  goes  into 
hidin'.  Puttin'  it  the  mildest,  she's  a  menace  to  a  free 
people.  She  swoops  on  a  poker  game,  into  which  Abilene 
is  settin';  an',  although  he's  ahead  at  the  time,  she  con 
fiscates  a  pot  of  over  ninety  dollars  that's  in  the  center, 
besides  takin'  what  money's  loose  in  front  of  Boggs  an' 
Jack  Moore,  claimin'  the  same  as  havin*  been  wrested 
from  Abilene  by  venal  practices.  She  lands  in  the  Red 
Light  one  ca'm  afternoon,  flourishin'  a  axe,  an'  informs 
Black  Jack  she'll  wreck  the  joint  if  ever  she  smells  rum 
on  Abilene  ag'in.  At  this,  the  boys  in  their  despair, 
begins  sayin'  things  about  Peets;  besides  eyin'  him  mighty 
baleful.  Folks  is  seen  to  drink  alone;  which,  speakin* 
from  standp'ints  of  public  peace,  is  a  worst  possible  sign. 

"Peets  grows  indignant;  but  he  can't  formyoolate  no 
plans.  'The  idee  of  this  outfit  of  prairie  dogs  blamin' 
me  I*  he  says,  when  him  an'  Enright's  sadly  talkin' 
things  over.  '  This  is  what  I  gets  for  rushin'  to  the  rescoo 
of  Wolfville!' 

8  105 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'Doc/  returns  Enright,  slow  an'  solemn,  'you  knows 
me.  I'd  stand  up  a'gin  the  iron  for  you;  an'  even  now, 
if  worst  falls,  I  means  to  perish  with  you.  None  the  less, 
r  I  cannot  pretend  amazement  at  the  boys  lay  in'  their 
troubles  to  your  door.  As  a  squar'  man,  with  a  fairly 
balanced  mind,  I'm  bound  to  admit  the  boys  is  right. 
Now  I  don't  say  the  camp  feels  what  you'd  call  reesent- 
ful,  Doc;  it's  more  like  they're  mournin'  over  a  day  that's 
gone  an'  a  peace  you  overthrows.  An'  yet  you  knows  what 
hoomanity  is,  when  rendered  desp'rate  by  burdens  more'n 
it  can  b'ar.  I'm  the  last  gent  to  go  determinin'  what's 
best  for  other  gents  to  do,  but  you  an'  me  is  old  friends; 
an'  so,  as  a  warnin'  from  a  source  that  means  you  well, 
let  me  say  that,  onder  the  circumstances,  an'  rememberin' 
how  we  live  in  a  day  of  lariats  an'  windmills,  if  I  stood 
in  your  moccasins,  Doc,  either  me  or  that  maraudin' 
lady  you  introdooces  yere,  would  leave  town  without 
deelay.' 

"Peets  couldn't  be  more  impressed  if  all  inadvertent 
five  aces  deevelops  in  one  deal.  An'  let  me  observe 
it's  beautiful  to  see  him  begin  the  round-up  of  his  stam 
peded  pop'larity.  Peets  is  allers  great,  but  never  so 
great  as  when  the  shadow  of  Abilene's  wife  lays  over 
him  an'  Wolfville  like  a  blight. 

"Followin'  Enright's  forebodin's,  Peets  holds  a  secret 
conference  with  Abilene  out  back  o'  the  corral.  Later 
he  reports  to  Enright. 

"'I  reckon,  Sam,'  he  says,  knittin'  his  brows  thought 
ful,  'I've  cut  a  trail  that  ought  to  lead  us  out.' 

'"I  shore  trusts  as  much/  returns  Enright.  'As 
106 


DOC  PEETS'  ERROR 

eevents  are  headin',  I  sees  nothin'  for  it  but  to  adjourn 
Wolfville  sine  die.' 

" ' This  yere's  the  proposition/  goes  on  Peets.  'Thar's 
a  rich  an'  sickly  Caldwell  aunt;  also  thar's  a  doctor. 
Abilene's  done  give  me  the  names  of  both.  I'm  no 
Elijah,  but  I  now  foresees  that  Abilene's  wife  is  goin' 
to  get  a  message  from  said  physician,  sayin'  the  rich 
aunt  is  cashin'  in,  and  to  come  a-runnin'. 

"'But  Doc/  reemonstrates  Enright,  'do  you-all 
reegyard  it  as  on  the  squar'  to  go  deloodin'  this  lady  about 
a  dyin'  aunt,  who  most  likely  is  up  an'  hustlin'?' 

'"Sam/  says  Peets,  'sech  egreegious  queries  makes 
me  tired.  You  should  not  forget  that  se'f-preservation, 
as  a  law  of  nacher,  reefers  to  commoonities  as  much  as 
men.' 

"Boggs  saddles  the  best  pony  in  the  corral,  an*  goes 
dashin'  off  for  Tucson;  next  day  he  comes  dashin'  back. 
He  b'ars  a  telegram  for  Abilene's  wife;  an*  whether  it's 
troo  or  no,  at  least  it's  convincin'.  Next  sun-up,  by 
speshul  buckboard,  that  reemarkable  lady  leaves  for  the 
East,  castin'  as  she  goes  a  sneerin'  look  at  us,  as  we  peeks 
from  the  Red  Light's  winders. 

"The  joyful  dust  of  her  departure  hasn't  settled,  be 
fore  Wolfville  embarks  in  a  celebration,  so  copious  an' 
so  exhaustive,  it  leaves  the  Red  Light  crippled,  ontil  it 
freights  in  a  fresh  stock.  Peets,  so  lately  the  objeck  of 
public  anger,  is  now  the  public  hero. 

"'But  you  suppresses  the  facts,  Abilene/  says  Tutt, 
addressin'  that  husband  where  he's  tankin'  up,  'when 
you  deescribes  that  treemenjus  he'pmeet  of  yours  as 

107 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

simply  "uppish."  In  view  of  what  I  now  knows, 
"uppish"  ain't  a  two  spot.' 

" l  It's  with  no  purpose,  Abilene,'  observes  Peets,  as  he 
fills  afresh  his  glass,  'to  discourage  one  whom  I  sym 
pathizes  with  as  a  onforchoonate  an'  reespects  as  a  dead 
game  gent,  that  I  yereby  invites  the  entire  pop'lation  to 
j'ine  me  over  Wolfville's  escape  from  your  wife.  An' 
all  informal  though  this  assemblage  be,  I  offers  the  hope 
that  this,  the  second  of  August,  the  date  when  the  lady 
allooded  to  pulls  her  awful  freight,  continyoo  an'  reemain 
forever  a  day  of  annyool  thanksgivin'  in  this  camp.' 

"Abilene  seeks  out  Texas,  an'  extends  his  hand. 
'Texas,'  he  says,  'it's  shore  low  an'  onmanly  in  me  to 
try  an'  drag  you  into  misery  sim'lar  to  my  own.  It's 
done  onder  torture,  Texas;  an'  because,  as  some  poet 
sharp  says  some'ers,  "Misery  loves  company." ' 

"'Well,'  returns  Texas  plenty  sullen,  an'  takin'  the 
out-stretched  hand  sort  o'  slow,  'while,  after  sech  ex 
hibitions  of  weak  selfishness  as  you-all  puts  up,  I  can't 
say  I'll  regyard  you  as  clean  strain,  I  don't  say  I  won't 
forgive  you  none.  Moreover,  I  shall  look  upon  the 
eepisode  as  a  cloud  not  altogether  without  a  silver  linin', 
if  it  serves  to  teach  some  headlong  sports' — yere  he  looks 
hard  at  Peets  an'  Enright — 'to  stand  paws-off,  lettin' 
well  enough  alone,  should  they  in  footure  find  a  husband 
an'  wife  livin'  happily  an'  peacefully  apart. ' " 


CHAPTER  XI 

JAYBIRD    HORNE 

AS  to  the  size  of  that  bundle  Peets  inherits," 
remarked  the  Old  Cattleman,  with  the  pains 
taking  manner  of  one  who  would  like  to  be 
accurate  if  he  could — "  as  to  the  actooal  size  of  that  bundle, 
I  never  has  preecise  information.  Peets  himse'f  sheds 
no  direct  light  on  it,  an*  nacherally  I  don't  go  proselytin* 
'round  askin'  him  questions,  bein'  too  well  raised  by 
my  folks.  Boggs  says  once,  in  talkin*  about  it,  that 
it's  big  enough  to  choke  a  cow;  which  statement,  while 
calk'lated  to  excite  admiration,  don't  go  into  deetails 
sufficient  to  jestify  a  figger.  The  clostest  any  gent 
ever  comes  to  puttin'  it  down,  book-keep  fashion,  is 
Enright,  who  allows  it's  fifty  thousand  dollars.  That's 
a  big  pot  of  money,  fifty  thousand  is,  an'  if  you-all  don't 
mind  I  reckon  I'll  ring  for  the  licker.  The  mention 
of  sech  giant  sums  shore  leaves  my  mouth  as  dry  as  a 
covered  bridge. 

"Fifty  thousand  dollars!"  repeated  the  old  gentleman, 
after  he  had  been  refreshed.  Then,  musingly:  "I 
recalls  the  first  big  money  I  ever  rounds  up;  which  it's 
a  roll  of  ten  thousand.  I  ain't  likely  to  forget  the  sensa 
tion  none.  For  the  first  week  I  thought  that  ten  thou 
sand  was  a  million  dollars;  after  that  I  simply  knowed 

109 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

it  was.  How  do  I  make  it?  Well,  that's  neither  yere 
nor  thar.  Besides,  a  gent  can't  tell  two  stories  at  once, 
more'n  a  dog  can  chase  two  rabbits  at  once;  wharf  ore, 
let's  stick  to  the  fifty  thousand  Peets'  inherits  that  time. 

"An*  yet,  to  be  c'rrect,  it  ain't  a  inheritance,  emanatin' 
as  it  does  from  folks  who's  no  kin  of  Peets'.  It's  not  ex- 
ackly  what  I'd  call  a  donation  neither;  it's  more  like  a 
pick-up,  an'  sort  o'  reeverts  to  Peets  as  the  legit'mate 
froots  of  his  eddicational  bow  an'  spear.  You  frequent 
hears  me  mention  how  Peets  is  that  wise  he  vis'bly  up 
lifts  the  mental  average  of  Arizona.  This  time  he 
proves  it;  an*  it's  for  that  reason  I'm  allers  speshul  glad 
the  play  comes  off.  It's  refreshin',  as  markin'  the  troo 
valyoo  of  science,  to  have  a  eddicated  sport  like  Peets  up 
an*  make  a  killin',  by  merely  knowin'  things  at  what 
book-sharps  call  the  croocial  moment. 

"It's  the  Deacon  who's  the  instrooment  seelected  by 
Fate  to  confer  on  Peets  that  treasure;  none  the  less  the 
story,  told  proper,  begins  off  to  one  side,  with  a  malignant, 
p'isenous  form  of  hooman  varmint,  who  signs  the  books 
as  Jaybird  Home.  Likewise,  the  yarn  possesses  other 
elements  of  disj'intedness,  doo  to  its  bein'  troo.  Lies 
allers  flies  straight  as  arrers  towards  whatever  they're 
aimed  at,  an'  either  misses  or  hurts  or  kills  as  the  case 
may  be.  Trooth  is  different  a  whole  lot.  It's  more  apt 
to  go  wanderin'  an'  squanderin'  an*  zigzagin'  all  over  the 
map,  like  a  pony  with  its  bridle  off.  An'  for  causes 
obv'ous:  Lies  is  artificial,  an'  framed  up  for  a  purpose. 
As  ag'inst  this,  trooth  is  nacheral,  an'  in  its  'nitial  ap 
pearance  at  least,  never  has  no  axe  to  grind.  Which  if 

110 


JAYBIRD  HORNE 

you'll  only  stop  an'  think,  you'll  see  that  this  yere  must 
be  so. 

"  The  commencement  of  things  then  is  when  that  out 
cast  Jaybird,  ridin'  a  pinto  pony  an'  hailin'  from  Lords- 
burg,  comes  bulgin'  into  camp.  He  makes  a  more  or 
less  mem'rable  deboo;  for  a  Red  Dog  loonatic  called 
Curly  Simpson,  who's  projectin'  'round  Wolfville  at 
the  time,  pulls  his  six-shooter,  an'  takes  to  cuttin'  the 
dust  about  Jaybird's  moccasins,  as  soon  as  ever  he  hits 
the  ground. 

"'I'm  feelin'  deepressed  an'  low,'  explains  Curly  that 
a-way,  'an'  if  you'll  kindly  dance  a  little,  it  may  serve  to 
cheer  me  up.' 

"As  though  willin'  to  yoomer  Curly,  this  Jaybird 
shore  does  jump  high  an'  sprightly,  like  a  trant'ler; 
wharupon  Curly  gets  pleased  with  his  agil'ty,  to  that 
degree  he  cracks  off  all  six  loads  like  the  rollin*  of  a  drum. 
When  Curly's  final  cartridge  is  gone  an*  he's  plumb 
inokyoous,  Jaybird,  assoomin'  a  rattlesnake  grin,  pro- 
dooces  a  derringer  an'  puts  a  bullet  through  his  foot. 

"'It  'ud  be  your  locoed  head,'  says  Jaybird,  'only  most 
likely  sech  feats  involves  me  with  the  stranglers,  for 
which  I  ain't  got  time.  Likewise,  when  next  you  in- 
aug'rates  a  baile  of  this  deescription,  either  pack  a  second 
gun,  or  don't  become  so  lib'rally  profoose  as  to  wholly 
empty  the  one  you  has.  You  sees  yourse'f  that  either 
you  ought  to  have  saved  your  last  cartridge,  as  a  reeserve 
ag'inst  the  onexpected,  or  been  wearin'  another  pistol 
so's  to  be  ready,  when  called  on,  to  back  your  crazy  play. 
My  own  notion,  private,  is  to  allers  have  the  second  gun, 

111 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

as  bein'  better  form.  No  gent,  without  sacrificin'  his 
standing  can  permit  his  wardrobe  to  bog  down  to  where 
he  ain't  got  a  change  of  guns/ 

"Inasmuch  as  this  eepisode  comes  off  in  front  of  the 
post-office,  which  is  the  next  edifice  to  the  Red  Light, 
most  of  us  is  thar.  When  Jaybird  finishes  his  oration, 
Enright,  who's  strong  suit  is  bein'  friendly  to  strangers 
an'  makin'  'em  feel  at  home,  explains  that  Wolfville 
don't  claim  to  be  reespons'ble  for  Curly,  him  hailin' 
from  Red  Dog. 

"'An'  I  certainly  hopes,'  says  Enright,  'that,  onder  the 
circumstance,  Curly's  capers  won't  leave  no  sense  of 
annoyance,  nor  op'rate  with  you  to  queer  the  town/ 

"'None  whatever!'  returns  Jaybird,  mighty  gala. 
Then,  to  all  of  us :  '  Gents,  my  name's  Home — Jaybird 
Home;  an'  I  makes  no  doubts  but  when  this  Curly  Red 
Dog  person  gets  acquainted  with  me,  he'll  reespect  me 
an*  walk  'round  me  like  I'm  a  swamp/ 

"  Curly  is  freighted  over  to  Red  Dog  on  a  buckboard, 
by  virchoo  of  his  game  foot;  an'  Enright  closes  the  in 
cident  by  allowin'  he's  glad  he  gets  it,  as  a  lesson  ag'inst 
bein'  so  inordinate  an'  plumb  reedundant  with  his 
gun. 

"'Leastwise,'  says  Enright,  in  concloosion,  'I  don't 
want  Curly  to  come  pirootin'  over  to  Wolfville,  givin' 
rein  to  his  witless  activities  no  more/ 

"'Let's  go  into  yon  s'loon,'  returns  Jaybird,  indicatin' 
the  Red  Light,  'an*  forget  it  over  a  bowl  of  snake-water. 
Neither  do  I  mind  admittin',  gents,  seein'  I'm  feelin' 
some  languid  myse'f  when  I  rides  in,  how  that  little  gun- 

112 


JAYBIRD  HORNE 

play,  so  far  from  irritatin',  reelly  relieves  me  an*  falls 
in  nice  with  my  moods.' 

"With  the  start  he  makes,  if  Jaybird  has  the  original 
roodiments  of  a  white  man  in  him,  he  might  have  climbed 
to  what  heights  he  chooses  in  public  esteem.  Wolfville 
is  generous  to  the  p'int  of  bein'  a  proverb.  It  has  its 
tolerant  rooles.  You  comes  to  Wolfville;  an*  it's  as 
though  you're  beginnin'  life  anoo.  Your  past  is  as 
nothin'  to  that  hamlet.  It  begins  with  you  as  you  steps 
from  the  stage.  It  don't  ask  your  name;  it  asks  'What 
may  we  call  you  ? '  an'  leaves  you,  as  a  proodent  gent,  to 
pick  out  what  title  is  best  adapted  to  your  needs.  As 
you  go  romancin'  along  from  day  to  day,  it  watches  you; 
an'  final,  it  endorses  you  or  lynches  you  as  seems  jest  an' 
mete.  Which  I've  said  all  this  yere  before. 

"Bein'  moved  up  into  commoonal  fellowship,  your 
Wolfville  foocher  is  asshored.  Should  you  go  broke,  it 
stakes  you;  should  you  marry,  it  shakes  a  festive  laig  at  the 
weddin';  should  a  papoose  be  bora  to  call  you  'Daddy,'  it 
gets  drunk  with  you;  should  you  fall  sick,  it  sets  up  with 
you.  Die?  Shore,  if  you  dies,  it  confers  on  you  a 
hon'rable  sepulcher  on  Boot  Hill,  an'  everybody  attends 
the  obsequies — that  is  everybody  who's  out  of  jail.  You 
notes,  tharfore,  that  Jaybird's  got  the  local  makin'  or 
breakin'  of  himse'f  wholly  in  his  own  hands,  an'  can 
stand  way  up  in  the  pictures  if  so  inclined. 

"That  he  ain't  so  inclined  none,  cuts  less  of  a  figger  in 
Jaybird's  case  perhaps,  since  it's  plain  from  the  jump 
he  don't  aim  to  remain.  However,  in  them  few  days  he 
does  stay,  he  shore  creates  a  black  impression. 

113 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"An*  at  that  I  figgers  it's  more  his  atmosphere  than 
what  he  does.  He's  plenty  reepellant,  is  this  Jaybird 
outlaw,  an*  you-all  can  smell  villainy  off  him  same  as 
you  smells  fire  in  a  house.  Physic'ly  he's  small  an'  wiry, 
with  bow-laigs  from  livin'  a  heap  in  the  saddle.  His 
eyes  is  small  an'  has  a  weaselish  look,  same  as  belongs  to 
that  egg-suckin'  hen-huntin'  breed  of  animals  who  can 
see  in  the  dark. 

"Most  of  all,  however,  it's  Jaybird's  face  that's 
ag'inst  him.  For  one  thing,  it  peters  out  into  one  of 
them  little  chins,  sharp  an'  bony  at  the  p'int,  broad 
at  the  corners  of  the  jaw,  like  the  jaws  of  snakes  of  p'isen 
sort — the  chin  of  a  murderer  rather  than  a  killer — crooel, 
skulkin',  savage!  No  discreet  gent,  after  seein'  it, 
would  think  of  takin'  off  his  guns  while  Jaybird's  hanker- 
in'  'round. 

"This  Jaybird  has  one  redeemin'  trait;  he's  a  born 
gun  sharp.  Shore!  he's  among  the  soonest  prop'sitions, 
when  he  reaches  for  a  six-shooter,  I  ever  gets  ag'inst. 
Not  that  I  encounters  him  none  lethal;  barrin'  the  foot 
eepisode,  wharin  Curly  quits  loser,  he  don't  offer  to 
shed  no  blood  in  Wolfville  on  that  earlier  occasion  of  his 
trackin'  in. 

"It's  over  in  Chihuahua,  which  is  that  fragment  of  the 
Wolfville  body  pol'tic  where  the  Mexicans  herd,  that  I 
has  a  chance  of  countin'  up  Jaybird's  gun-play.  This 
is  what  he  does; — an'  I  allers  imagines  he  does  it  to  fix 
himse'f  respectful  upon  the  Greaser  mind.  He  picks  up 
six  chips  off  the  lay-out  of  a  saddle-colored  party  who's 
dealin'  monte,  an'  tosses  'em  up  in  the  air.  They 

114 


JAYBIRD  HORNE 

spreads  out,  an'  hangs  for  a  moment  like  six  blots 
ag'inst  the  sky.  That's  all  Jaybird  reequires.  As  he 
tosses  up  the  chips,  his  hand  goes  to  his  gun;  it's  'bang! 
bang!  bang!  bang!  bang!  bang!'  faster  than  you-all 
can  count,  an*  when  them  chips  hits  the  ground  ag'in 
they're  in  dust  an'  little  pieces. 

"Which  I  witnesses  some  swift  clean  gun  playin'  from 
time  to  time,  but  these  yere  performances  of  Jaybird  is 
ondoubted  the  bloo  ribbon  outburst  of  'em  all.  Cherokee, 
who's  himse'f  a  pastmaster  with  a  Colt's-45,  gives  it  out 
that,  for  suddenness  an'  ackeracy,  he  himse'f  don't 
stand  no  more  chance  with  Jaybird  than  a  pa'r  of  treys 
in  a  jack-pot  after  the  draw.  That's  straight;  Jaybird, 
personal,  shore  does  possess  a  genius  for  firearms. 

"Throughout  the  ten  days  Jaybird  sojourns  in  our 
midst,  he  don't  do  nothin'  much.  He  ain't  what  you'd 
call  a  drinker  none,  while  at  poker  an'  farobank  he's 
even  more  sparin*.  In  talk,  he  don't  wax  over-com- 
moonicative,  an',  if  he  beetrays  pecooliarities,  it's  in  the 
way  he  seems  allers  to  be  lookin'  for  some  gent  onknown. 
Not  that  he  goes  spyin*  about  open  an'  apparent,  or  takes 
to  overtly  rummagin'  up  the  camp.  Still  it's  as  plain  as 
printed  books  he's  on  some  gent's  trail.  It's  this  yere 
hunt  for  that  onknown  which  takes  him  over  into  Chi 
huahua,  the  time  he  busts  them  monte  chips.  Hunt 
as  he  may,  however,  Jaybird  don't  find  his  man;  an'  one 
mornin'  he  flings  the  hull  onto  his  little  pinto  hoss,  an' 
hits  the  trail  for  the  no'th  like  he's  satisfied  he's  been 
dubbin*  'round  on  a  dead  kyard. 

"Folks  in  Arizona  is  so  migratory  that  strangers,  in 

115 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

their  advents  or  departures,  excites  no  remark.  No  one, 
tharfore,  heeds  the  goin'  of  Jaybird,  more'n  perhaps  to 
experience  relief,  same  as  if  some  centipede  or  stingin' 
lizard's  disappeared.  Neither  does  the  camp  lift  up  its 
astonished  gaze  none,  when,  mebby  it's  a  week  later,  the 
Deacon  comes  weavin'  in. 

"This  yere  Deacon  boy  breaks  on  me  first  across  the 
supper  table  at  the  O.  K.  Restauraw;  I  notices  him 
speshul  because  he's  so  plumb  callow.  His  face  is  as 
smooth  an*  young  as  Faro  Nell's;  an'  he's  that  innocent 
for  looks,  you're  overwhelmned  with  wonder  constant  as 
to  how  he  comes  to  be  caperin'  about  in  Arizona  at  all — 
Arizona  as  a  region  bein*  some  turgid. 

"It's  Boggs  who  names  him  the  'Deacon;'  an',  since 
his  pinfeather  innocence  sort  o'  gives  us  a  pray'r-meetin' 
impression,  we-all  trails  in  an'  calls  him  the  Deacon 
sim'lar.  So  far  from  resentin'  said  title,  he  not  only 
answers  to  it,  but  acts  pleased. 

"An'  yet,  that  air  of  he'pless  innocence  is  a  heap  mis- 
leadin'.  This  Deacon  boy  is  all  the  time  a  more  deadly 
problem  even  than  the  Jaybird,  an'  owns  a  fitfuller 
Colt's.  Which  it  goes  to  prove  how  deeloosive  is  mere 
looks  that  a-way,  an'  sets  a  philosophic  gent  to  thinkin'. 
Laid  side  an'  side,  the  egg  of  the  eagle  ain't  in  it  with 
a  goose  egg;  but  jest  the  same  it  holds  a  eagle. 

"The  Deacon  ain't  been  a  day  in  town  before  Jaybird, 
with  his  pinto  hoss,  ag'in  comes  canterin'  in.  Not  that 
thar's  anythin'  irreg'lar  or  myster'ous  in  sech  return;  it's 
tryin'  to  read  the  brands  on  what  follows,  which  proves 
sech  a  puzzle  to  the  pop'lar  mind. 

116 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Yere's  how  eevents  takes  to  pilin'  themselves  up. 
It's  well  into  the  shank  of  the  evenin',  on  the  day  Jaybird 
gets  back,  an*  we're  all  a  heap  onbuckled  an*  reelaxed. 
Of  a  sudden,  from  some'ers  out  to  the  r'ar  of  Hamilton's 
dance  hall,  we  hears  a  gun  bark  once — short  an*  sharp, 
like  the  single  bark  of  a  dog. 

"'Better  sa'nter  over,  Jack,'  says  Enright,  glancin'  up 
from  his  poker  game  to  Jack  Moore — 'better  sa'nter 
over  an*  take  a  look  in.  One  shot  that  a- way  sounds 
doobious;  I've  a  notion  some  maverick's  been  put  over 
the  big  jump.' 

"Thar's  a  sentiment  of  oneasy  cur'osity  all  'round, 
which  is  sharpened  when  Jack  returns,  ridin'  offishul  herd 
on  the  Deacon. 

'"It's  this  yearlin','  says  Jack.  'Whatever  do  you- 
all  reckon  now  he's  done  ? ' 

"'Which  I  shore  can't  say  none,'  observes  Enright, 
layin*  down  his  kyards. 

"  'I  should  gamble  not! '  Jack  retorts.  'I hopes  I  may 
be  eaten  by  red  ants,  if  this  Toothless  kid  ain't  bumped  off 
that  Jaybird.  The  latter  prince  of  pistol  shooters  is 
layin*  out  thar  back  of  a  mesquite  bush,  as  dead  as 
Joolius  Caesar/ 

"'Him  down  that  Jaybird  party!'  exclaims  Enright, 
plumb  took  aback.  'Jack,  it  ain't  feas'ble!  It  don't 
lay  in  his  yoothful  moccasins!' 

"'Ask  him! 'says  Jack. 

" '  It's  in  se'f  defence,'  cuts  in  the  Deacon.  '  Jaybird 
goes  for  his  gun,  an'  I  simply  beats  him  to  it.' 

'"Do  you-all  mean  to  test'fy,'  remarks  Enright,  slow 

117 


JAYBIRD  HORNE 

an'  p'inted,  'that  this  Jaybird  commences  hostilities, 
an'  that  you  hives  him  after  he  takes  to  domineerin'  at 
you  with  his  Colt's?' 

"'That's  whatever,'  replies  the  Deacon,  a  heap  on- 
shaken.  'An'  as  to  Jaybird  bein*  sudden  with  his 
artillery,  you  don't  want  to  forget  I'm  some  abrupt 
myse'f.' 

"Enright  uplifts  a  reeprovin'  hand.  'Stop/  he  says. 
'Son,  this  yere's  onhinged  you.  Thar's  gents  present 
who  witnesses  former  what  that  Jaybird  could  do.  In 
the  light  of  them  exhibitions,  I  pronounces  your  state 
ments  preepost'rous.  My  advice  is  to  say  no  more, 
but  devote  yourse'f  to  silent  meditations  ontil  the  strang- 
lers  is  convened.' " 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   HEIR   OF  THE   BROKEN-O 

THAT'S   one  of   the  excellent  feachures  about  a 
vig'lance    committee,    a    feachure    wharin    they 
lays  over  other  triboonals.     All  onbiased,  they 
comes    together  before  the  witnesses  grow  lookewarm 
or   the   facts    turn    cold.     The  time  that  Deacon  boy 
sends  Jaybird  flutterin'  into  the  infinite,  minutes  don't 
elapse  before  the  committee  calls  itse'f  to  order  in  the 
Red    Light.      What   portion   of    the   Wolfville   public 
ain't  otherwise  engaged,  likewise  assembles  to  listen  an' 
look  on. 

"Among  the  last,  an*  a  heap  up  to  the  front,  is  a  ven'r- 
able  gent  with  a  full-moon  face,  an*  a  white  fringe  of 
beard  all  round  it  like  a  frill.  In  spite  of  his  looks,  the 
same  bein*  genial  an'  benevolent,  an*  plumb  deevoid  of 
evil,  thar's  evidences  onmistak'ble,  in  his  rusty  black 
surtout  an'  tall  hat,  that  the  ven'rable  party  is  a  law- 
wolf.  None  of  us  is  shore;  for  it's  only  that  evenin'  Old 
Monte  brings  him  in,  an'  we  ain't  had  no  chance  as  yet  to 
feel  him  out  personal.  I'm  thus  elab'rate,  since  this  aged 
cimarron  develops  into  quite  a  figger  subsequent,  though 
at  the  go-off  he  lays  mum  an'  dead,  with  nary  move  or 
word. 

"When  the  committee's  ready,  Enright  invites  the 
Deacon  to  onfold. 

119 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

'"Which  I  already  lays  b'ar  the  facts/  responds  the 
Deacon.  'I'm  in  the  dance  hall  virchoously  disportin' 
myse'f  in  a  quadrille,  the  same  bein'  then  an*  thar  pulled 
off  to  the  strains  of  Sandy  Land.  The  last  call  has  jest 
been  given,  "All  prom'nade  to  the  bar!"  when  the  floor 
manager  signs  it  up  to  me  that  my  cousin  Jaybird  wants 
to  see  me  out  back/ 

"'Your  cousin!'  says  Enright. 

"'Shore;  this  Jaybird's  my  cousin;  leastwise  my  half 
cousin,  his  pap  an'  mine  bein'  half  brothers  that  a- way/ 

'"Quite  right!'  breaks  in  the  moon-faced  old  law-wolf, 
who's  posted  in  the  public  foreground,  payin'  interested 
heed.  'The  lad's  quite  c'rrect,  gents;  their  paps  was 
half  brothers  like  he  states/ 

'"Whoever  is  this  disturbin'  old  person?'  demands 
Enright,  some  shocked. 

'"He's  a  nov'lty  to  me/  returns  the  Deacon,  as  much 
amazed  as  Enright. 

'"Who  'ml?'  says  the  moon-faced  gent,  in  a  protestin' 
tone.  'Why  I'm  Jedge  Bailey  of  the  Austin  bar,  in- 
cident'ly  counsel  for  the  Broken-O  ranch.  Also  I  has 
business,  pressin'  an'  private,  with  this  yere  culprit.' 

'"Which  the  stranglers/  says  Jack,  layin'  a  hand  on 
the  moon-faced  party,  'has  prior  claims;  an',  onless  you 
reestrains  your  troublesome  vivac'ty  so  as  not  to  interrupt 
that  arm  of  jestice,  I'll  certainly  have  to  lead  you  outside 
an*  side-line  you  a  lot  ontil  the  Deacon's  guilt  is  declar'd/ 

'"No  offence,  gents/  says  the  moon-faced  person, 
mighty  apol'getic.  'Most  likely  later,  you'll  invite  me 
to  be  heard/ 

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THE  HEIR  OF  THE  BROKEN-O 

"'  Which  if  you-all  knows  anythin'  worth  hearm'/ 
observes  Enright,  'it's  a  cinch  we  shall/  Then,  wheelin' 
on  the  Deacon  ag'in,  he  remarks:  'Proceed  with  them 
rev'lations.' 

"'Thar's  mighty  little  more  to  tell/  says  the  Deacon. 
'Nacherally,  I  goes  cavortin'  out  to  meet  my  relative. 
Not  that  we've  been  sech  chums,  neither — him  layin' 
over  me  for  age  by  considerable.  Prior  to  this,  I  ain't 
seen  my  Jaybird  cousin  but  once,  for  closin'  on  three  years, 
countin'  from  last  spring's  round  up,  an'  then  our  in 
terview  is  mighty  brief.  However,  when  I  meets  him 
to-night,  thar's  no  mis-readin'  the  look  on  his  face;  he 
shore  means  killin'.  He's  standin'  jest  inside  the  outer 
rim  of  light  from  the  r'ar  winders  of  the  dance  hall,  an' 
the  instant  I  appears  he's  got  me  covered.  Thar's  no 
time  for  salyootations;  an',  bein'  a  nervous  highstrung 
sport  myse'f,  about  the  time  Jaybird  covers  me  I  covers 
him.  If  anythin',  bein'  defter,  I  shades  his  play  a 
trifle,  an' — as  I  says  prior — beats  him  to  it.  Thar,  gents, 
you've  got  it;  I  gives  you  the  onmuzzled  trooth.' 

"'About  you-all  bein'  sech  a  flash-light  artist  with  a 
gun/  observes  Jack  Moore:  'S'ppose  you  gives  this  con 
vocation  a  spec'men  of  your  handiwork.' 

"Jack's  been  holdin'  the  Deacon's  belt  an'  weepon, 
havin'  secoored  'em  at  the  start.  Removin'  the  five 
cartridges  that's  left,  he  presents  the  Deacon  with  his 
empty  armament. 

' '  Belt  that  piece  of  iron  on  yourse'f /  says  Jack, '  an', 
as  Enright  gives  the  word,  see  if  you  gets  the  drop  on  me.' 

"The  Deacon  smiles  his  smile  of  onsullied  innocence, 
9  121 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

an*  buckles  on  the  Colt's.  Enright  counts  *  one-two- 
three!'  Thar's  nothin'  like  it!  Lightnin'  hangs  fire  by 
compar'son!  The  Deacon's  hand  moves  so  quick  it 
baffles  the  committee,  an'  he  gets  the  cold  muzzle  on  Jack, 
before  that  exec'tive  so  much  as  loosens  his  own  gun  in 
its  scabbard. 

"'  That's  s'fficient,'  says  Jack,  as  he  reclaims  the 
Deacon's  pistol;  'thar  shore  don't  seem  no  elements  of 
ondoo  delib'ration  about  your  work.' 

"'But  why,'  demands  Enright,  'should  this  Jaybird 
homicide  seek  to  down  you — you  his  cousin  ?  Whatever 
is  his  motive?' 

"'That's  too  many  for  me,'  returns  the  Deacon. 
'  However,  one  thing  I  knows  is  that  over  in  Shakespear, 
on  said  recent  one  occasion  I  crosses  up  with  him  since  I 
leaves  the  Brazos,  he  certainly  does  make  some  hostile 
motions.  That  time,  too,  I  has  my  eye  on  him,  how 
ever;  an'  inasmuch  as  he  onderstands  all  about  me  bein' 
some  veheement  with  a  gun  myse'f,  he  refrains.  Ropin' 
round  for  his  reasons  in  gunnin'  for  me,  it  may  be  thar's 
money  in  my  rubbin'  out.  To  be  wholly  frank,  gents, 
I  ain't  none  certain  you-all  couldn't  borry  ten  thousand 
dollars  on  my  skelp  right  now,  back  on  the  Brazos.' 

"'Folks,'  breaks  in  the  moon-faced  gent  ag'in,  'if  you'll 
permit,  I  reckon  I  can  eloocidate  a  heap.' 

"'Excoose  me!'  interrupts  Jack;  'I  sincerely  regrets 
bein'  obleeged  to  buffalo  a  party  of  your  ven'rable  years, 
but  you  forces  my  hand  by  this  onlicensed  boisterousness.' 

"Jack's  on  the  verge  of  puttin'  the  moon-faced  gent 
into  the  street,  when  Enright  bids  him  deesist.  '  Go  on,' 

122 


THE  HEIR  OF  THE  BROKEN-O 

says  Enright  to  the  moon-faced  gent.  'Whatever's  this 
eloocidation  you  allows  you're  equal  to?' 

"'As  I  mentions  former/  returns  the  moon-faced  gent, 
*  I'm  Jedge  Bailey,  counsel  of  the  Broken-O,  the  same  bein' 
the  ranch  of  the  late  Virge  Home.  Which  you-all  may 
have  heard  of  old  Home,  gents;  they  called  him  "Nine- 
notch  Virge,"  him  havin'  downed  nine.  But  to  get  back: 
I've  come  invadin'  into  these  regions,  on  the  trail  of  the 
said  Virge  Home's  heir  an'  laigatee,  bein'  the  yooth  now 
yere  on  trial.  Also  I  desires  to  add  that  his  cognomen 
is  not  "the  Deacon,"  but  Houston  Home.  His  pap 
cashin'  in  leaves  him,  as  he  stands  yere,  sole  proprietor  of 
the  Broken-O  herds;  which  are  e-normous.' 

"'How  e-normous?'  asks  Boggs,  who's  allers  caught 
by  any  mention  of  cattle. 

"'How  e-normous?'  repeats  the  moon-faced  gent. 
'  The  Broken-O  gets  its  runnin'  irons  onto  nine  thousand 
calves  last  spring.' 

"'Nine  thousand  calves!'  says  Boggs.  'That  means 
forty-five  thousand  head  of  cattle  on  the  range.  Texas' 
— yere  he  appeals  to  Texas  Thompson — 'what's  the 
valyoo  of  cattle  on  the  Brazos?' 

"'All  I  saveys,'  says  Texas,  'is  that  when  my  Laredo 
wife  gets  her  divorce,  they  rounds  up  two  hundred  head  of 
mine,  an'  sells  'em  at  public  vandoo — to  pay  costs  an' 
al'mony — for  six  thousand  dollars.' 

"'Then  this  yere  Broken-O  outfit,'  observes  Boggs, 
'ought  to  beat  a  million  dollars!' 

"'Come,  gents,'  breaks  in  Enright,  rappin'  for  atten 
tion,  'this  ain't  no  inquiry  as  to  the  market  price  of  steers.' 

123 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Then,  to  the  moon-faced  gent:  'What  you  tells  is  not 
without  interest;  but  them  eloocidations  you  promises 
ought  to  level  themselves  at  oncoverin'  what  motives  this 
Jaybird  sport  could  have  for  wipin'  out  the  Deacon. 
Onless  deceased  is  locoed,  I  certainly  sees  no  cause  for 
him  carryin'  on  like  the  Deacon  deescribes.  I'm  free  to 
remark  that  this  Deacon  boy's  tale,  of  how  his  Jaybird 
cousin  tries  to  bushwack  him,  looks  plenty  gauzey.' 

"As  to  the  Jaybird's  motives,'  resoomes  the  moon 
faced  gent,  'I'm  comin'  to  'em.  An'  when  I  names  'em, 
a  black  b'ar  of  your  years  an'  sagacity  will  grasp  'em 
plumb  instanter.  Seein*  him  an'  the  Deacon — I  accepts 
your  name  for  the  latter  yooth — is  all  the  reelations  old 
Virge  Home  has,  in  case  of  the  Deacon's  gettin'  wiped 
out,  it's  up  to  that  Jaybird  murderer,  as  next  of  kin,  to 
inherit  the  Broken-O.  Likewise,  I  now  ree'lizes  the 
preecise  murderin'  play  the  latter  bandit  has  in  felon 
mind.  He's  missin'  from  the  Brazos  country,  the  mo 
ment  the  drug  sharps  gives  it  out  that  Virge  Home's  goin' 
to  pass  in  his  chips;  an',  in  view  of  what's  took  place,  I 
makes  no  doubt  his  design,  that  a-way,  is  to  bootcher 
the  rightful  heir,  an'  cl'ar  a  bloody  path  for  himse'f  to  the 
estate.  Gents' — an'  yere  old  moon-face  acts  like  he's  on 
the  brink  of  a  set  speech — '  gents,  this  is  shore  a  romance ! ' 

"Romance,  yes,'  interjects  Enright;  'an'  yet  thar's  a 
corner  or  two  into  which  I  trusts  you'll  shed  a  ray  of  light. 
How  comes  it,  you  bein'  so  thick  with  his  dad,  that  this 
yere  Deacon  yooth  don't  know  you  none?  Also,  why- 
ever  ain't  he  home  on  the  Brazos,  instead  of  surgin' 
'round  yere  in  Arizona  where  he  don't  belong?' 

124 


THE  HEIR  OF  THE  BROKEN-O 

"'As  to  them  primary  inquiries/  replies  the  moon 
faced  gent,  'he  don't  know  me  none  because  he  never 
sees  me  none.  I  lives  miles  away  from  the  Broken-O, 
in  Austin;  moreover,  I  don't  get  hooked  up  with  Virge 
Home  as  counsel,  ontil  after  this  wanderin'  heir  vamoses 
his  old  man's  ranch.  Concernin'  this  Deacon's  reasons 
for  thus  abandonin'  the  paternal  camp-fire,  I  leaves  you 
to  put  them  questions  to  him.  If  it's  to  be  told,  he's  the 
party  to  tell  it,  not  me.' 

"'Bein'  by  nacher  frank  an*  open/  speaks  up  the 
Deacon,  'I  shore  don't  hesitate  to  say  why  I  leaves  home, 
reservin'  nothin'  back.  I'm  goiil'  on  sixteen  years  at  the 
time,  an'  as  a  natif  of  Texas  I  boasts  a  haughty  sperit. 
Thar's  a  right  smart  sprinklin'  of  Mexicans  back  on  the 
Brazos,  an'  of  course  we-all  Americans  draws  lines  of 
social  sep'ration.  Among  other  matters,  the  boys  has 
sep'rate  swimmin'  holes,  one  for  us  an'  one  for  the  Mex 
ican  yooth.  One  mornin'  I  goes  down  to  lave  myse'f 
a  lot,  an'  I  leaves  you  to  jedge  my  chagrin,  gents,  when  I 
finds  the  Caucasian  hole  alive  with  Greasers.  By  way 
of  reemonstrance,  I  turns  in  an'  proceeds  to  chunk  'em 
up,  when  all  of  a  sudden  about  twenty  of  'em  swarms 
ashore  an'  starts  to  crawl  my  hump.  Thar's  no  use 
talkin',  them  Greasers  certainly  does  frale  me  good  an* 
fervent!  As  soon  as  I  can  make  the  round  trip,  I  gets 
back  to  the  swimmin'  hole  from  the  ranch  with  a  10- 
gauge  shotgun  an'  fifty  buckshot  cartridges.  I'll  not 
put  no  figger  on  how  many  I  cuts  off,  but,  you  hear  me! 
I  plays  even  for  the  Alamo  right  thar.  When  the  mas 
sacre's  over,  it  strikes  me  the  neighbors  somehow  may 

125 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

find  fault;  some  of  'em  is  mighty  narrow,  that  a- way,  an* 
they  may  say  I  overplays  my  hand.  With  this  on  my 
mind,  I  streaks  it  for  Arizona,  an'  never  does  go  near  the 
Broken-O  ag'in.  The  trooth  is,  I  don't  aim  to  go  back 
now,  onless  I  receives  guarantees.' 

* '  Fear  not! '  puts  in  the  moon-faced  gent,  reasshorin'ly ; 
'them  Brazos  neighbors  long  ago  settles  that  what  you 
does  is  nothin'  worse  than  a  boyish  prank.' 

"'Well,'  resoomes  Enright,  some  thoughtful,  'the 
sityooation  don't  offer  that  concloosive  evidence  we  dee- 
mands  before  we  stretches  a  gent.  None  the  less  I 
don't  credit  this  Deacon  boy's  claims  that  the  Jaybird 
pulls  on  him  first.  Thinkin'  he  observes  s'spicious 
moves  on  the  part  of  that  deceased  relative,  when  he  meets 
up  with  him  over  in  Shakespear,  the  Deacon  bein' 
called  from  the  dance  hall  like  he  is,  gets  stampeded;  an' 
tharupon  he  slaughters  the  onthinkin'  Jaybird  in  his  con- 
f oosion.  Don't  you  regyard  that  as  a  s'lootion,  Doc  ? ' 

"Peets  has  been  oncommon  silent  doorin'  the  hearin', 
but  at  Enright's  question  he  begins  movin'  up  to  the  fore. 

'"This  Deacon  boy,'  says  Peets,  not  replyin'  to  En- 
right  direct,  'tells  us  that  the  Jaybird  has  him  covered. 
Now  I  examines  departed,  an'  the  bullet  that  takes  him 
from  us  goes  in  his  right  side,  jest  below  the  shoulder, 
an',  traversin'  the  body,  lodges  in  the  heart — a  wound 
that's  fatal  frequent.  To  science  all  things  is  plain, 
an'  the  trooth  easy  to  run  down.  Gents,  the  facts  at  issoo 
ain't  camped  a  minute  ahead.' 

'"Tharupon  Peets  prodooces  one  of  them  jim-crow 
deevices  he  calls  a  probe,  an'  enters  upon  experiments. 

126 


THE  HEIR  OF  THE  BROKEN-O 

We-all  holds  our  breath  to  watch.  Thar  it  is,  shore 
enough!  When  Jaybird's  arm  is  extended,  same  as  is  a 
gent's  when  he  goes  to  shoot,  the  bullet  hole  is  clean  an* 
oninterrupted.  Put  his  arm  down  by  his  side  as  in  times 
of  peace,  an*  var'ous  an*  sundry  muscles,  slidin*  them 
selves  one  across  the  other,  closes  the  bullet  hole  up. 
The  probe  won't  enter.  Goin'  to  a  deeduction,  Peets 
gives  his  word  as  a  medical  sharp  that  the  Deacon  tells 
the  trooth,  an'  corrals  Jaybird  after  that  brigand's  in 
p'sition  to  wage  war.  That  ends  it;  by  direction  of  En- 
right  we  throws  the  Deacon  loose,  an'  Jack  Moore  gives 
back  his  gun. 

"'Tharby  reestorin'  your  standin'  as  a  cit'zen,'  says 
Jack. 

"'  Which  I'm  glad  the  kyards  comes  out  of  the  box  as 
they  does,'  remarks  Boggs,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  'The 
idee  of  hangin'  a  millionaire  that  a-way  palls  on  me. 
Hangin'  rich  folks  shore  does  go  ag'in  my  grane!' 

"'If  a  millionaire  is  guilty,  why?'  demands  Texas 
Thompson,  some  severe.  'Thar  ain't  one  jestice  for  the 
rich,  an'  another  for  the  pore.  For  myse'f,  I  favors 
hangin'  rich  men.  Rich  men,  speakin'  gen'ral,  comes  to 
be  a  mighty  sight  like  fat  hawgs;  as  a  roole  they  ain't 
no  good  to  other  people  till  they're  dead.' 

"'You  may  be  right  Texas/  returns  Boggs;  'jest  the 
same,  when  it  gets  down  to  hangin'  a  millionaire,  them 
thoughts  of  all  the  fun  he  could  have,  blowin'  in  his  bank 
roll,  shore  op'rates  to  stay  my  hand.  Hangin'  a  pore 
man  now  don't  affect  me  so  much;  it's  easier,  like  as  if 
you're  puttin'  some  suff'rer  out  of  his  misery.' 

127 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"It's  six  months  later  when  Peets  receives  a  letter  from 
the  Deacon,  said  eepistle  runnin*  in  these  words: 

"  BROKEN-O  RANCH, 

"  On  the  Brazos. 
"  MISTER  PEETS,  M.  D., 

"DEAR  SIR: — My  old  pap  makes  a  will,  an'  leaves  a 
leg'cy  to  Jaybird,  as  his  nephy,  that  calls  for  five  figgers 
to  express.  The  balance  of  the  Broken-O  estate,  the 
same  bein'  plenty  rotund,  he  confers  on  me.  The  Jay 
bird's  happily  extinct,  an'  nacherally  I  inherits  his  share, 
thar  existin'  no  one  nearer  of  the  Home  fam'ly.  Havin' 
in  mind  my  se'frespect,  I  firmly  refooses  to  profit  by  said 
Jaybird's  deemise,  a  stand  which  you  as  a  high-strung* 
gent  will  jestify.  An'  yet  somethin'  must  be  done  with 
Jaybird's  share.  Rememberin'  what  I  owes  to  you-all, 
an'  the  noble  science  which  you  represents,  I've  deecided 
to  onload  it  on  you,  an'  yereby  encloses  a  draft  drawn 
ag'in  the  Austin  bank  for  full  amount.  I  remain, 

"Yours  trooly, 

"  HOUSTON  HORNE." 

"'What  do  you  think  yourse'f,  Sam?'  asks  Peets. 
' Would  you  accept  said  riches?' 

"'Would  I  accept?'  says  Enright.  'Doc,  sech  ques 
tions  sounds  plumb  childish!' 

"And  then  what?"  I  asked,  as  the  old  gentleman 
rapped  the  ashes  from  his  beloved  briar  root,  preparatory 
to  retiring  for  the  night. 

"Then  what?  My  son,  WTolfville's  temperachoor, 
taken  at  normal,  is  high;  but  in  the  week  which  ensoos  on 
the  heels  of  that  Broken-O  laigacy  to  Peets,  it's  shore 
carried  to  altitoods  compared  to  which  the  term  'timber- 
line'  sounds  marshy." 

128 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   ROSE   OF   WOLFVILLE 

HER  real  name  is  Sarah  Jane  McElleney," 
observed  the  old  gentleman  as  we  settled  to 
our  customary  talk;  "I  knows,  because 
Cherokee  Hall  says  he  sees  her  former  over  in  Silver 
City,  when  he's  temporarily  turnin'  faro-bank  for  that 
camp.  Of  course  when  Cherokee  gives  the  lady's 
name,  it's  regyarded,  to  use  the  expression  of  Peets — 
who's  shore  the  soonest  sharp! — as  'res  adjoodicata.' 
As  a  historian,  Cherokee  is  freequent  ackerate,  some 
times  peevish  an'  allers  firm,  an'  to  go  dispootin' 
about  his  facts  mighty  likely  leads  to  onhealthful  com 
plications.  When  she's  in  Silver  City — accordin'  to 
Cherokee — she's  workin'  in  the  Palace  Emporium,  sellin' 
two-dollar  shirts  for  ten.  Concernin'  them  prices,  I  can 
well  believe  it;  for  she's  certainly  the  guilefullest  sales 
lady  that  ever  slams  furnishin'  goods  or  wheedles  a  gent 
across  a  counter. 

"It's  Peets  who  hails  her  as  the  'Rose  of  Wolfville;' 
for,  aside  from  bein'  the  best  eddicated  gent  in  the  South 
west,  he's  also  the  most  poetic.  Bein'  she's  as  pretty  as 
a  heart  flush,  the  camp  adopts  his  deescriptif.  Subse 
quently,  we  adheres  to  said  title  on  account  of  the  thorns. 
Which  as  an  outfit  we  shore  does  prick  our  fingers  on 

129 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

the  Rose;  to  say  nothin'  of  'Gene  Stevens  an'  Eldorado 
Bob  prickin*  theirs  speshul! 

"These  yere  sev'ral  happening  I'm  borderin'  on, 
bobs  up  when  Tutt  an'  Tucson  Jennie's  been  married 
a  year,  an'  that  transcendent  infant,  Enright  Peets  Tutt, 
is  mebby  goin'  on  a  month.  An'  I  allers  lays  the  part 
Peets  takes  in  this  embroglio,  wharof  the  Rose  is  the 
bloomin'  but  onsatisfactory  center,  to  the  inflooence  of 
little  Enright  Peets.  Folio  win'  the  awful  sityooation  he 
precip'tates  in  bringin'  on  Abilene's  wife  that  time, 
Peets  gets  mighty  tame,  an'  conducts  himse'f  a  heap 
proodent  an'  conserv'tive.  It's  the  comin'  of  Tucson 
Jennie's  baby  which  ag'in  sets  him  to  ghost-dancin'; 
for  in  his  exhileration  he  feels,  to  the  chubby  extent  of 
little  Enright  Peets,  like  Wolfville  is  on  velvet,  an'  as  a 
troo  gambler  he's  for  stickin'  to  the  system  which  pro- 
dooces  that  infant,  an'  doublin'  the  stakes. 

"It's  some  prob'ble,  too,  that  when  it  comes  to  fo- 
mentin'  wedlock  for  other  people,  Peets — like  all  doctors 
— is  preematoorly  prone,  not  to  say  profession'ly  over- 
eager  that  a- way.  I  says  this  of  Peets  advised;  for  Wolf 
ville,  in  its  domestic  expressions,  don't  wholly  jestify 
his  onflaggin'  zeal  in  cappin'  wedlock  to  win. 

"  When  it  comes  to  provin'  matrimony  to  be  a  onchal- 
lenged  vict'ry,  Wolfville  don't  go  all  one  way.  This  is 
pecooliarly  troo  in  the  case  of  the  Ruckers,  the  same,  as  a 
warnin',  bein'  onder  our  nose  constant.  Relyin',  as  we 
do  an'  must,  on  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  for  our  daily  flap 
jacks  an'  salt  hoss,  Rucker's  thralldom  is  necessar'ly  a 
open  page.  Missis  Rucker,  while  a  lady  possessed  of  a 

130 


THE  ROSE  OF  WOLFVILLE 

multitood  of  esteemable  virchoos,  in  her  wifely  attitood 
towards  Rucker  is  plumb  despotic;  to  sech  degrees, 
in  trooth,  that  no  one  blames  him  much  when  he  goes 
limber-footin'  off  that  time  to  j'ine  the  Apaches,  an* 
throw  a  line  of  them  savages  between  himse'f  an'  his 
domestic  bliss.  Shore,  we  rounds  him  up  later,  an* 
drags  him  back  to  Missis  Rucker's  arms;  but  sech  steps 
is  took  on  other  grounds  entire.  However,  to  return 
to  the  Rose  of  Wolfville,  whom  we  leaves  bloomin* 
alone. 

"Wolfville  has  no  notice  preev'ous  of  the  comin'  of 
the  Rose.  She  deescends  upon  us  like  a  fallin'  star,  an' 
goes  to  clerkin'  in  the  New  York  Store.  It  shore  shows 
that  Armstrong,  who  owns  said  mart,  knows  his  business; 
for  the  stampede  to  buy  handkerchiefs  an'  b'iled  shirts, 
after  the  Rose  gets  thar,  is  without  preecedent  in  local 
commerce.  Also  it's  a  blow  at  the  Red  Light,  which 
public  reesort  don't  sell  half  the  rum  of  yeretofore.  I 
don't  exaggerate;  thar's  never  no  sech  prior  rush  of  cus 
tom  in  the  territory,  as  sets  in  ag'inst  the  New  York  Store 
after  the  Rose  appears.  I  knows  folks  that  never  ontil 
then  owns  four  shirts  contemp'raneous,  who  instantly 
acquires  forty. 

1 '  Which  it's  the  Rose's  smile  does  it,'  explains  Boggs, 
who's  gone  broke  on  neckties  an'  sim'lar  frivol'ties. 
*  She  certainly  does  leer  at  a  gent  a  heap  tender,  when  he's 
buyin'  things.' 

"At  that  the  Rose's  amiability  is  wholly  confined  to 
business  hours;  when  any  of  us  cuts  her  trail  outside,  she's 
as  formal  as  a  fooneral,  an'  never  as  a  roole  notices  our  ex- 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

istence  more'n  if  we're  horned  toads.  Now  an'  then,  to 
be  shore,  when  some  dead  game  gent  takes  off  his  som 
brero,  she  bows;  but  the  bow  is  as  short  an*  cold  as  a 
winter's  day.  It's  her  system,  I  reckon.  Meet  her 
behind  the  counter,  an'  she's  as  warmly  beamin'  as  the 
August  sun  at  noon;  cross  up  with  her  at  the  post-office, 
or  Missis  Rucker's,  or  in  the  street,  an'  icicles  is  feverish  to 
her. 

"The  Rose  has  been  breakin'  trade  records  for  Arm 
strong  mebby  it's  a  month,  when  Peets — excited,  as 
stated,  by  the  sight  of  little  Enright  Peets — begins  agit- 
atin'  'round  about  some  gent  marryin'  her  an'  settlin' 
down. 

"  Don't  go  ropin'  at  me  none  to  assist,  Doc,'  reemon- 
strates  Enright,  to  whom  Peets  is  allowin'  what  a 
setback  to  Wolfville  it  is  for  the  Rose  to  continyoo  single 
that  a-way;  'I  don't  figger  I  care  for  kyards  in  any 
more  fam'ly-foundin'  plays.  That  fool  bluff  we  runs, 
in  bringin'  on  Abilene's  wife,  lets  me  out  complete.  I 
never  thinks  of  the  eediotic  plot  we  formyoolates  that 
time,  without  goin'  out  doors  to  blush.' 

"'You'll  pardon  me,  Sam?'  says  Peets,  plenty  digni 
fied,  'if  I  protests  ag'in  your  pose  of  cool  indiff'rence. 
Thar's  a  debt,  let  me  reemind  you,  which  you  owes  to 
Wolfville.  Emigration,  as  a  element  of  commoonal 
growth,  is  excellent  up  to  a  certain  p'int;  but  all  author 
ities  on  nation  buildin'  agrees  that  you-all  can't  put  your 
swell  bet  on  it.  Folks  is  a  heap  too  itinerant.  They 
comes  an'  goes  like  the  old  woman's  soap;  they're  yere 
to-day  an'  thar  to-morrow.  What  Wolfville  needs  is 

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increases  natif  to  the  soil — same  as  that  wonder  of  the 
centuries,  little  Enright  Peets.  Think  whatever  for 
a  boast  it  would  be,  if  Wolfville  could  p'int  to  a  home 
grown  herd  of  children,  big  enough  to  stock  a  school! 
Marriage  is  the  way  to  bring  sech  proud  conditions  to 
pass.  Assoomin'  the  Rose  to  be  linked  in  lovin'  matri 
mony  to  some  trusty  sport  like  Dan  yere,  who  shall  say 
that,  led  along  by  the  glorious  example  of  Tutt  an* 
Tucson  Jennie,  they  won't  go  romancin'  off  in  exploits 
similar  to  little  Enright  Peets?  Whatever  do  you  say 
yourse'f ,  Dan  ? '  concloods  Peets  turnin'  to  Boggs,  who's 
been  listenin'  some  impressed.  'What's  the  matter  of 
you  gettin'  chips,  pullin'  a  cha'r  up  to  the  sityooation, 
an',  for  the  advancement  of  a  Wolfville  footure,  winnin' 
out  this  Rose  lady  ?  Jest  consider  how,  in  sech  eevents, 
we  puts  it  all  over  Red  Dog/ 

'"  Which  we've  got  that  deboshed  hamlet  jumpin' 
sideways  as  it  is,'  returns  Boggs.  'As  for  me  marryin' 
the  Rose,  while  I'd  shore  admire  to  make  the  dulcet  trip, 
it  would  be  playin'  it  a  heap  too  low  down  on  any  lady, 
to  go  sawin'  off  on  her  matrimonially,  sech  a  long-horn 
as  me.  Now  if  I'm  some  cornfed  tenderfoot,  it  would 
most  likely  be  different  a  whole  lot.' 

"'Dan,'  interjects  Peets,  'this  yere  hoomility,  while 
it  does  you  credit,  likewise  does  you  wrong.' 

" '  But,  Doc,'  persists  Boggs, '  I  ain't  seedentary  enough 
for  a  husband.  I've  lived  too  much  in  the  cow-camps, 
too  little  in  a  house.  I  knows  my  deefects;  an',  while 
I'm  not  oncap'ble  of  frauds,  when  it  comes  to  goin'  in  on 
a  cold  collar  an'  deloodin*  some  innocent  lady  into  leadin' 

133 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

me  to  the  altar,  you  bet  it's  a  play  too  neefarious  for  my 
moral  nacher.' 

'"Dan/  warns  Texas  Thompson,  who's  drawn  up  in 
time  to  hear  the  last;  'don't  you  go  leadin'  no  ladies  to 
the  altar.  Ladies  is  a  brace  game.  I  never  reeflects 
upon  that  Laredo  wife  of  mine,  who  gets  the  divorce, 
but  it  shore  gives  me  cold  feet.  It's  the  wise  gent  who, 
in  this  yere  matter  of  wedlock,  holds  himse'f  onwaverin'ly 
in  abeyance/ 

"'Texas,'  reemonstrates  Peets,  'sech  herisies  is  plumb 
mortifyin'  to  your  friends.  Likewise  they  p'ints  to  a 
selfish  narrowness  on  your  part,  that's  far  from  doin' 
you  credit.  You're  altogether  illogical.  You  go  pesterin' 
'round  a  bee-tree,  an'  get  all  stung  up  a  lot.  An'  then 
you  passes  the  rest  of  your  carpin'  days,  declar'in'  thar's 
no  honey  in  the  world!' 

'"(Understand,  gents  all,'  exclaims  Texas,  for,  as 
backin'  up  Peets'  reproaches,  he  notes  disapproval  in 
Enright's  eye;  'onderstand,  I  ain't  aimin'  none  to  head 
Dan  off.  What  I  says  is  that,  accordin'  to  my  experience, 
matrimony  works  out  a  good  deal  like  eatin'  off  the  same 
plate  with  a  grizzly  b'ar.  Sho'!' — an'  Texas  can't 
reepress  a  shudder — 'I'd  as  soon  think  of  pettin'  a  wolf! 
The  mere  idee  brings  on  a  attack  of  the  fantods!' 

'"Aside  from  any  Wolfville  interest,'  observes  Peets, 
disregyardin'  the  last  remarks  of  Texas,  whom  he  looks 
on  as  a  hopeless  pess'mist,  '  I  don't  consider  it's  publicly 
safe  for  the  Rose  to  go  trackin'  round  without  a  husband. 
It's  too  much  like  havin'  some  onauthorized  six-shooter 
lyin'  'round,  loaded  to  the  brim;  it  opens  too  wide  a 

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THE  ROSE  OF  WOLFVILLE 

chance  for  accidents.  I'd  sooner  some  gent  would  come 
meanderin'  along  an'  own  it  a  lot;  in  which  case,  if  harm 
ensoos,  we  has  a  place  to  start  from  in  fixin'  reesponsi- 
bil'ties.' 

"'Doc/  says  Faro  Nell,  speakin*  across  the  lay-out 
to  Peets,  for  the  talk  comes  off  in  the  Red  Light,  while 
Cherokee  is  dealin'  bank;  'why  don't  you  cull  this  yere 
Rose  yourse'f  ?  What's  the  matter  of  thar  bein'  a  Missis 
Peets?' 

"'It  wouldn't  do  at  all,  Nellie,'  returns  Peets,  shakin' 
his  head.  'I'm  a  medicine  man;  wedlock  is  plumb  for 
bid  by  the  ethics  of  my  game.' 

"Me  bein'  a  bachelor,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  after 
pausing  to  re-light  the  briar-root,  "ladies,  if  not  a 
sealed  book  to  me,  at  least  is  writ  in  a  furrin'  tongue;  I 
can't  make  nothin'  of  'em,  an'  never  could.  Wharfore, 
it's  beyond  me  to  go  layin'  b'ar  the  motives  which  onder- 
lies  the  conduct  of  the  Rose,  from  this  time  for'ard.  All 
I  can  do  is  reelate  what  happens,  in  the  order  it  deevel- 
opes,  an'  leave  it  to  you-all  to  read  the  brands  on  eevents 
as  they  troops  by. 

"Followin'  the  pow-wow  reelated,  Peets  does  nothin' 
in  partic'lar.  Not  but  what  he  has  the  will;  only  no 
openin'  occurs  to  cut  in  for  action.  I  reckons,  also, 
that  Enright  an'  Boggs  layin'  down  on  the  game  like 
they  do,  sort  o'  daunts  him;  to  say  nothin'  of  them 
loogoobrious  reeflections  of  Texas.  For  all  that,  this 
yere  enterprise  of  marryin'  off  the  Rose  don't  go  to  sleep. 
Only  it  breaks  forth  in  new  an'  onexpected  forms. 

"It's  this  a-way:  'Gene  Stevens  an'  Eldorado  Bob 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

are  riders  on  Enright's  Bar-B-8  ranch,  an*  belongs  at  one 
of  his  sign  camps  over  by  the  Tres  Hermanas.  They're 
young,  smooth,  handsome  boys,  straight  as  lances,  slim 
an*  limber  as  panthers,  an*  to  see  either  of  'em  in  the 
saddle  is  like  hearin'  a  toone  of  music.  Up  to  this  yere 
eepock,  they  eats  out  o'  the  same  bake-kettle,  sleeps  onder 
the  same  blankets,  an'  in  all  reespecks  gets  along  together 
as  peaceful  an'  friendly  as  two  pups  in  a  basket. 

"One  bright  mornin',  mebby  it's  a  week  after  Peets 
makes  that  talk,  these  young  an'  boundin'  sports  rides 
into  Wolfville.  As  they  goes  curvin'  about,  they  gets 
simultaneous  eyes  on  the  Rose.  Which  it's  the  beginnin' 
of  the  end;  from  that  moment  their  infatchooation  is 
obv'ous.  That  lady  simply  goes  over  their  ontried  sen- 
sibil'ties  like  a  landslide! 

"Aimin'  to  remain  for  a  day  when  they  rides  in,  they 
stays  a  week;  an'  doorin'  said  period  you  can't  drive  'em 
out  o'  the  New  York  Store  with  a  gun.  Absolootely, 
they  becomes  sort  o'  spellbound  about  this  Rose,  to  a 
degree  where  Enright  begins  to  notice.  Poss'bly,  it's 
the  boys  over-drawin'  their  pay,  months  in  advance, 
which  first  attracts  Enright's  attention.  By  that  time, 
however,  neglectful  of  Bar-B-8  interests  utter,  they've 
as  stated  been  hankerin'  round  town  for  mighty  nigh  a 
week. 

"Enright  when  he  learns,  is  plumb  scandalized. 
'Whatever  would  you  think,  Doc!'  says  Enright;  'them 
two  cimarrons  ain't  rode  a  mile  of  my  lines  for  seven 
days!  That  means  a  shore  hundred  head  of  Bar-B-8 
cattle  has  done  drifted  across  into  Mexico!  You  can 

136 


THE  ROSE  OF  WOLFVILLE 

gamble  them  Greasers,  over  about  Casa  Grande,  is  havin' 
a  beef  picnic  all  right/ 

"'Never  mind/  observes  Peets,  a  heap  soothin' — 
Peets  sees  what's  afoot  from  the  jump,  but  don't  say 
nothin'  for  fear  Enright  drives  'Gene  an'  Eldorado  back 
on  the  range — 'never  mind,  Sam;  let  'em  play  around 
a  while,  ontil  the  Rose  picks  one  of  'em  out.  It  would 
shore  be  a  crime  ag'in  the  body  pol'tic,  to  go  sp'ilin' 
nuptials  which  I  now  perceives  is  not  only  certain  but 
clost.  Ain't  it  wonderful  how,  jest  as  I'm  settin'  down  in 
despair,  this  yere  marital  trick  begins  to  up  an'  turn 
itse'f?'" 


10 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   ROSEJS  THORNS 

CLOSE-HERDED  by  Peets,  who  won't  let  any  of 
us  so  much  as  bat  a  eye  or  wag  a  y'ear  lest  we 
disconcerts  the  love-makin',  we-all  lays  mighty 
low  an*  quiet.  The  eyes  of  the  camp  is  riveted  on  the 
Rose,  to  see  when  she  commences  to  thaw;  an*  towards 
which  gent.  So  far,  it  looks  like  'Gene  an'  Eldorado  is 
splittin'  about  even.  Nacherally,  with  both  of  'em 
hangin'  'round  the  New  York  Store  from  the  time  Arm 
strong  onlocks  the  doors  in  the  mornin'  ontil  he  locks  'em 
up  ag'in  at  night,  they  arrives  at  a  closer  acquaintance 
with  the  Rose  than  does  the  rest  of  us.  However,  that 
virgin,  as  between  'em,  in  no  wise  evinces  partiality.  If 
she  capers  over  to  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  for  her  noonday 
chuck  with  Eldorado,  she  prances  back  to  the  store  ag'in 
with  'Gene;  an'  thar  you  be.  The  tangle  shore  does 
keep  us  shiftin'  our  stacks,  an'  guessin'. 

"'Which  I'll  bet  a  hatful  of  bloo  chips  it's  'Gene/ 
says  Boggs,  banterin'  Texas  for  a  wager. 

"'Not  with  me,'  returns  Texas,  a  heap  solemn.  'I'm 
some  heartless  as  a  sport,  but  I'd  no  more  spekyoolate 
on  a  gent  gettin'  married  than  on  a  gent  gettin'  lynched.' 

"This  lovin'  see-saw  between  'Gene  an'  Eldorado 
goes  on  for  a  fortnight,  by  which  time  they've  ceased  to 

138 


THE  ROSE'S  THORNS 

drink  together,  an'  glowers  plenty  fierce  when  they 
meets. 

"'The  plot  is  thickenin'/  says  Peets,  rubbin'  his 
hands.  'In  less'n  another  month  that  lady'll  declar' 
herse'f.' 

'"They'll  take  to  shootin',  them  boys  will,  long  e'er 
that/  says  Enright.  'Which  I  don't  so  much  mind 
them  lovers  abandonin'  my  cattle,  Doc/  he  continyoos, 
his  manner  plenty  nervous;  'but  I'm  in  hourly  fear  of 
'em  lowerin'  their  horns  at  one  another.  My  y'ears  is 
expectin'  the  crack  of  a  Colt's-45  any  minute!' 

"'How  would  it  be/  asks  Jack  Moore,  'for  me,  in 
my  capacity  as  kettle  tender  for  the  stranglers,  to  denoode 
'em  of  their  hardware?' 

'"That  wouldn't  seem  preecisely  the  thing  neither/ 
returns  Enright.  'With  the  rest  of  us  packin'  our 
guns,  it  would  shore  appear  invidious  to  go  strippin' 
them  boys  of  their  bric-a-brac.  Besides,  Jack,  bein'  in 
love  that  a- way  most  likely  makes  'em  fretful,  an'  they'd 
t'ar  into  you  for  war.  Which  is  what  we're  tryin'  to 
dodge.' 

"'I'm  a  fair  jedge  of  bloodshed  in  its  approach/ 
says  Peets,  'an'  I  don't  see  no  signs  as  yet.  S'ppose  we 
stands  pat,  an'  keeps  a  sharp  watch.  At  the  first  symp 
toms  of  trouble,  we'll  be  down  upon  'em  like  a  passel 
of  'possums  on  a  couple  of  persimmons.  To  move 
now  would  be  to  queer  the  play;  whereas,  if  we  gives 
the  Rose  time,  it's  a  cinch  she'll  make  up  her  mind.' 

'"Well,  I  shore  wishes  she  would!'  reemarks  En- 
right,  plenty  fervent,  'I  certainly  don't  hone  none  to 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

have  two  of  my  best  riders  go  to  shootin'  each  other  in 
two  over  this  damsel/ 

"'Thar  ain't  a  chance!'  reesponds  Peets. 

"'Doc/  breaks  in  Texas,  dark  an*  savage;  'them 
coquettes  revels  in  bein'  the  cause  of  bloodshed,  an' 
regyards  murder  in  the  light  of  compliments/ 

" '  Reely  Texas/  says  Peets,  his  tones  hard  an'  severe, 
'you  over-steps  the  bounds — even  for  a  gent  who's  been 
made  the  victim  of  a  lady's  crooelty.  This  Rose  ain't  no 
coquette;  her  cirklin'  in  an'  out  about  'Gene  an'  Eldorado, 
first  with  one  an'  then  the  other,  is  nothin'  more'n  the 
gentle  hesitancy  of  a  dove  about  to  'light/ 

"'That  may  be,  Doc/  observes  Enright;  'an*  yet,  I 
can't  avoid  wishin'  she'd  pick  out  her  perch.  Or, 
should  she  consider  sech  perch-pickin'  as  ongirlish,  if 
this  maiden  would  only  up  an'  confide  in  some  discreet 
gent  private,  as  to  which  she'd  ruther  have,  it  might  do. 
In  sech  case,  we  deevotes  ourselves  to  gettin'  the  wrong 
boy  out  o'  camp.  Between  us,  Doc,  havin*  regyard  to 
our  p'sition  in  the  commoonity,  an'  in  the  interests  of 
peace  an*  to  save  life,  I  thinks  it  our  dooty  to  approach 
her  on  that  p'int.' 

"'I  ain't  none  shore  but  you're  right/  returns  Peets, 
sort  o'  ponderin'.  'Leastwise,  for  that  an'  sundry 
other  reasons,  I  won't  say  I  ain't  in  favor  of  smokin' 
her  out.  A  little  gentle  interference  might  be  the  winnin' 
play;  ladies  likes  to  have  their  hands  crowded.  Sam, 
if  you'll  come  with  me  an'  back  the  game,  I'll  offer  the 
Rose  her  choice  between  'Gene  an'  Eldorado  right  now. 
That's  it;  we'll  shore  make  her  take  to  a  tree  or  go  into  a 

140 


THE  ROSE'S  THORNS 

hole!  The  Rose,  too,  will  be  grateful  for  us  bringin' 
things  to  a  head;  while  she'll  blush,  an*  mebby  pout  some, 
she'll  thank  us  in  her  heart/ 

"Although  Enright  ain't  none  entranced  with  the 
su'gestion  to  go  see  the  Rose  at  once,  he  believes  the 
prospecks  to  be  crit'cle,  an'  yields.  Wharupon  Peets  an' 
him  goes  pirootin'  off  on  their  embassy  of  love  an'  peace 
— Peets,  game  as  pheasants,  in  the  lead.  Boggs,  who's 
allers  plumb  inquis'tive,  follows  teeterin'  along  in  the 
r'ar  to  size  up  the  play. 

"This  yere  is  how  Boggs  reports  them  proceedin's: 

"'Peets  opens,'  says  Boggs,  'an*  offers  a  line  of  argy- 
ment  about  the  rectitoode  of  his  intentions,  the  jsame 
makin'  no  impressions  as  far  as  I  can  jedge.  Then  he 
deemands  to  know  whichever  she's  goin'  to  tie  down, 
'Gene  or  Eldorado. 

"'Thar's  nothin'  goin'  on  in  the  store  at  the  time,  an' 
the  Rose  is  over  on  the  grocery  side,  eatin'  a  ginger  cookie. 
As  the  Doc  is  talkin'  I  can  see  her  color  mount,  an'  I 
half  allows  she's  goin'  to  la'nch  some  pound  weights, 
that's  lyin'  loose  an'  handy  on  the  counter,  at  the  Doc's 
head.  She  does  have  some  sech  idee,  but  puts  it  aside; 
final,  she  stands  glarin'  like  a  wronged  lioness.  You  bet, 
gents,  I  wouldn't  have  been  in  them  sports'  moccasins 
for  a  herd  of  cattle! 

"While  the  Rose  stands  thar,  glarin'  an'  pantin', 
Enright  breaks  in  all  soft  an'  persuasif.  "What  I  fears, 
Miss,"  says  he,  "is  that  these  yere  boys'll  take  to  pawin' 
for  trouble  with  each  other.  You-all  shore  don't  want 
the  young  male  persons  of  this  village  to  go  shootin' 

141 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

each  other  all  up?"  The  Rose  still  stands  thar  sayin' 
nothin'  but  lookin'  that  f'rocious  she  could  eat  the  sights 
off  a  Winchester.  "Which  if  you  reely  knows  these 
yooths,  Miss,"  goes  on  Enright,  "an*  how  their  hearts 
is  as  soft  that  a- way  as  two  goose-ha'r  pillows,  you'd 
certainly  pity  'em  a  lot." 

"'It's  then,'  continyoos  Boggs,  'I  sees  the  Rose  begin- 
nin'  to  pull  herse'f  together  for  a  verbal  spring.  Which 
I  won't  attempt  her  words  none;  the  burnin'  eloquence 
of  that  gifted  lady  is  beyond  me!  As  a  deebater  she 
shore  lays  over  a  quartette  of  kings  an'  a  ace!  An'  say! 
the  way  she  does  t'ar  into  the  Doc  an'  Enright  is  a  lesson 
to  bobcats!  I  don't  overstate,  gents,  when  I  says  that 
she  gets  enough  of  their  hides  to  make  a  saddle  cover. 
At  the  close,  she  stamps  her  foot  like  a  buck  antelope; 
an'  all  with  a  proud  high  look  that  reeminds  me  a  mighty 
sight  of  a  goddess.  It's  the  only  time  I  ever  sees  the  Doc 
wholly  discouraged.  As  for  Enright,  I  feels  sorry  for  the 
old  silver-tip,  he's  that  abashed.' 

"We-all  has  to  content  ourselves  with  Boggs'  story, 
for  Enright  an'  Peets,  when  they  comes  weavin'  back 
to  the  Red  Light,  don't  say  nothin'.  They  jest  stands 
at  the  bar,  consoomin'  Old  Jordan  with  a  preeockepied 
air,  like  they're  mentally  countin'  up  the  pot  to  see  who's 
shy. 

"Finally  it's  Enright  who  speaks:  'Which  I  begins 
to  wonder  less'n  less,'  says  he,  'at  the  morose  attitoodes 
of  Texas  to'ards  ladies.' 

'"That  Rose  is  some  fiery,  an'  that's  a  fact!'  ree- 
marks  Peets  musingly. 

142 


THE  ROSE'S  THORNS 

"Sayin'  which,  the  two  closes  up  as  mum  an*  moote 
as  a  basket  of  clams.  Their  looks  is  enough,  though — 
bein'  that  glum  they'd  frighten  children  or  sour  milk. 

"It's  second  drink  time  in  the  evenin',  an'  a  soft  quiet, 
broken  only  by  the  muffled  flutter  of  a  stack  of  chips, 
preevails.  We're  most  of  us  in  the  Red  Light,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  the  brisk  tones  of  'Gene  breaks  on  the 
y'ear. 

"'Which  I've  nothin','  says  he,  'but  my  love  an'  my 
gun;  the  one's  for  the  Rose,  an'  t 'other's  for  reevenge. 
Eldorado,  it's  up  to  you  to  fill  your  hand!' 

"The  artillery  starts  to  bark  an'  buck-jump  with  the 
last  word,  an'  riots  on  for  about  four  shots  a  side.  Bein' 
not  without  experience,  those  of  us  who  ain't  involved 
crouches  behind  bar'ls  an'  ducks  down  back  of  the  coun 
ter,  so's  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  flyin'  lead.  Thar 
ain't  much  resk;  with  two  cool  hands  like  'Gene  an' 
Eldorado  workin'  the  batteries,  we-all  is  safe  enough. 

"When  the  shootin's  over,  we  begins  to  count  up  the 
casyooalties.  We  gropes  about  in  the  smoke  an'  finds 
'Gene,  hit  some  hard  in  the  shoulder;  an'  next  we  locates 
Eldorado  rollin'  'round  on  the  floor,  a  mighty  commo 
dious  hole  in  his  side.  Peets,  who  accompanies  'em  to 
Missis  Rucker's  to  bandage  'em  an'  bed  'em  down,  gives 
it  as  his  professional  opinion  later  that  they'll  live; 
which  said  assoorance  rolls  a  stone  from  off  our  appre 
hensions. 

"'An'  yet,'  says  Enright,  drawin'  a  deep  breath,  'yere 
we  be,  an'  nothin'  adjusted!  Thar's  all  this  shootin' 
an'  blood-lettin',  an'  the  camp  all  torn  up,  an'  most 

143 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

likely  the  whole  deal  to  go  over  ag'in!  That's  one  of 
the  disturbin'  elements,  Doc,  about  an  even  break.' 

"It's  the  next  day  when  a  fresh  feachure  is  added  to 
the  sityooation;  the  Rose,  harnessed  in  her  best  bib  an' 
tucker,  takes  the  stage  for  Tucson.  As  she  departs,  she 
never  expresses  the  least  solic'tood  touchin'  them  lovers 
lyin'  all  shot  up. 

"'An'  some  mavericks  thinks  ladies  is  tender!'  com 
ments  Texas. 

"'You  don't  onderstand,  Texas!'  says  Peets,  almost 
losin'  his  temper.  'With  both  boys  creased,  it  wouldn't 
be  delicate  for  the  Rose  to  go  expressin'  preferences. 
Wait  till  she  gets  back;  then  if  she  don't  go  driftin' 
round  the  neck  of  whichever  is  her  sweetheart,  I'm  a 
Mexican!' 

"'Shore!'  exclaims  Boggs;  'I  strings  my  money  with 
the  Doc's!  It's  perfec'ly  cl'ar  to  me,  that  the  Rose  has 
only  gone  squanderin'  off  to  pick  out  her  trooseau.  I 
hopes  she  makes  it  bloo;  bloo's  my  fav'rite  tint.' 

"Armstrong,  in  reesponse  to  pop'lar  eagerness,  allows 
that  the  Rose  will  be  back  in  a  month. 

"'By  which  period,'  says  Peets,  'I'll  have  them  cava 
liers  on  their  pins,  ready  for  the  Rose  to  make  her  seelec- 
tions.  You'll  see,  Sam' — addressin'  Enright,  who's 
takin'  a  morbid  view — '  that  this  yere'll  come  winner  on 
the  turn.' 

"Next  evenin'  about  sundown,  Old  Monte,  wropped 
in  the  yoosual  dust  cloud,  is  seen  bringin'  in  the  stage  on 
the  lope. 

"'The  same  bein'  a  bad  omen,'  declar's  Boggs. 

144 


THE  ROSE'S  THORNS 

'Whenever  that  old  drunkard's  the  b'arer  of  bad  news, 
he  allers  hurries.' 

"'It's  all  over!'  shouts  Old  Monte,  never  waitin' 
to  kick  free  the  mail  bags  or  tumble  off  the  express  box. 
'That  Rose  girl,  the  instant  the  stage  stops  last  night  in 
front  of  the  Oriental  S'loon,  grabs  off  a  Tucson  sport 
who's  lyin'  in  wait  for  her,  an*  sashays  off  to  be  married. 
Gents,  I  couldn't  believe  my  eyes!  It's  plumb  troo, 
however;  an'  the  barkeep  at  the  Oriental  gives  me  his 
word  that  said  outcast  who  gets  her  has  been  engaged  to 
the  Rose  for  months.  Figger  on  my  feelin's,  when  I 
reecalls  how  'Gene  an'  Eldorado  is  lyin'  he'pless,  while 
their  rights  is  bein'  thus  heartlessly  trifled  away!  I'm 
for  takin'  the  express  shotgun,  an'  maimin'  the  preacher 
or  mowin'  down  the  bridegroom!  But  the  Tucson  mar 
shal  wouldn't  have  it,  gents;  he  cuts  in  between  me  an' 
them  two  kidnappers  an'  stan's  me  off.  I  couldn't  he'p 
it  none;  that  Rose  girl  is  lost  to  'Gene  an'  Eldorado  an' 
the  rest  of  us  for  good!' 

"At  the  finish,  Old  Monte  gives  a  deeper  groan  than 
ever,  an'  havin'  told  his  bad  news,  seizes  on  the  affair 
to  go  on  what  Boggs  calls  a  'public  drunk*  to  show  how 
bad  he  feels. 

"Thar's  nothin'  spoke  for  a  while.  Ever  sober  an' 
sympathetic,  Black  Jack  makes  a  row  of  bottles  the 
len'th  of  the  Red  Light  counter;  bein'  a  astoote  barkeep, 
he  saveys  what  the  occasion  reequires.  At  last  Enright 
breaks  the  silence. 

"It  looks,  Doc,'  says  he,  'like  the  Rose  has  rung  in  a 
cold  hand  on  us?' 

145 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Peets  don't  reply,  bein'  tongue-tied  of  chagrin. 

"'Which  I  has  preemonitions  from  the  go-off/  observes 
Texas,  a  heap  pompous,  'that  this  yere  Rose  lady  ain't 
on  the  level  about  them  boys.  But  why  preetend 
s'prise  ?  It's  nothin'  more'n  another  instance  of  woman 
lovely  woman!' 

'"Whatever  be  you-all  wolves  howlin'  about,  I'd  like 
for  to  ask  ? '  puts  in  Faro  Nell,  who's  assembled  with  the 
rest.  'I  don't  see  nothin'  wrong  this  Rose  girl's  done; 
an',  bein'  a  girl  myse'f,  you  bet  I'm  a  jedge.  When  it 
comes  to  losin'  her  heart,  she  has  a  right  to  place  her  bets 
to  suit  herse'f,  as  Cherokee'll  tell  you;  an'  Wolfville, 
instead  of  grouchin'  an'  grumblin',  ought  to  be  proud  to 
turn  for  her.' 

"'Gents,'  says  Enright,  pullin'  himse'f  together,  'the 
present  is  a  profound  instance  of  "out  o'  the  mouths  of 
babes  an'  sucklin's."  Nell  is  right.  The  more  I  consid 
ers,  the  less  I'm  able  to  see  where  this  Rose  lady  exceeds 
her  rights.  An'  if  she  does,  what  can  we-all  do  about  it  ? 
— ladies  is  that  ongovern'ble!  By  word  of  Armstrong, 
I  onderstands  the  Rose  will  presently  reeturn  to  us,  an* 
make  her  home  yere.  Let  us  tharfore,  for  the  honor 
of  Wolfville,  be  prepared  to  whoop  it  up  as  she  trails  in 
with  her  prey.  While  she  ain't  preecisely  pleased  us  none, 
an'  would  have  come  nearer  to  ticklin'  us  to  death  if  she 
pitches  on  one  of  them  pore  wounded  boys  across  the 
way,  she  most  likely  pleases  herse'f — which  is  the  next 
best  chicken  on  the  roost.  The  reeflection,  too,  should 
cheer  us  that,  since  she's  goin'  to  pitch  her  household 
camp  among  us,  the  town's  bound  to  be  ahead  on  the 

146 


THE  ROSE'S  THORNS 

deal.  Askin'  every  gent's  pardon  for  so  long  a  speech, 
which,  however,  considerin'  how  the  hands  has  been 
runnin'  may  not  prove  in  vain,  I  invites  the  onprejew- 
diced  opinions  of  our  friend,  the  Doc,  on  the  subjecks 
involved/ 

"*Sam,  as  yoosual,  you've  stated  my  feelin's  to  a 
ha'r,'  responds  Peets,  who's  by  now  recovered  his  aplomb. 
1  Onder  all  the  circumstances,  while  perhaps  the  Rose  does 
deal  herse'f  a  hand  from  the  bottom,  I  sees  no  real  room 
for  cavil.  So  confident  am  I  tharof  that,  askin'  all  to 
yoonite  with  me,  I  yereby  freights  my  glass  to  the  Rose 
of  Wolfville  an'  the  tarrapin  she's  roped  up."1 


CHAPTER  XV 

SANDY  CARR,   VIOLINIST 

DO  you-all  believe  in  ghosts?"  asked  the  old 
gentleman  one  evening,  the  while  cocking  a 
questioning  eye  through  the  tobacco  smoke. 
I  replied,  almost  indignantly,  with  an  emphatic  negative. 
"No  more  do  I,"  he  returned  thoughtfully — "no  more 
do  I.  An*  yet  I've  been  afraid  of  'em  all  my  life. 

"Not  that  I  ever  encounters  a  spook,"  he  continued, 
after  a  moment's  silence;  "leastwise  never  but  once. 
It's  the  ghost  of  Sandy  Carr;  an',  you  hear  me!  that 
specter  shore  terrifies  Wolfville  to  a  degree  which  leaves 
it  as  flat  as  a  field  of  turnips.  Boggs  is  scared  speshul, 
an'  it  looks  like  his  mind  is  onhinged  for  a  time.  Still 
he  ain't  so  much  to  blame;  for  this  yere  wraith  takes 
to  chasin'  him  about  personal,  an'  runs  him  for  more'n 
a  mile. 

"It's  this  a- way:  We-all  likes  Sandy  a  whole  lot, 
an'  Boggs,  who's  always  took  by  sick  folks  an'  ladies  an' 
weak  people  gen'ral,  likes  him  partic'lar.  He's  been 
with  us  quite  a  spell,  Sandy  has,  an',  bein*  he's  leadin' 
voylinist  at  Hamilton's  dance  hall,  ockyoopies  a  front 
place  in  the  camp's  best  social  cirkles.  Moreover,  he's 
an  Americano:  and  since  the  balance  of  them  virchuosoes 
is  Dutch,  Sandy  sort  o'  stands  out.  Enright  knowed 

148 


SANDY  CARR,  VIOLINIST 

Sandy's  old  pap  back  in  Tennessee,  an'  that  of  itse'f 
puts  him  'way  up  in  the  picture  kyards. 

"When  Sandy  makes  his  deboo  among  us,  he  allows 
it's  on  account  of  his  lungs,  him  bein'  behind  the  game, 
pulmonary.  Doc  Peets,  however,  scouts  the  idee.  Peets 
goes  all  through  Sandy  with  a  lantern,  an*  gives  it  as 
his  jedgment  it's  his  heart. 

"'Which  I  don't  reckon  it  makes  much  difference 
neither/  says  Sandy,  mighty  careless — for  he's  plumb  re 
signed  that  a-way — 'seem'  either  one  of  'em's  a  center 
shot.' 

'"  Nonsense  1'  says  Peets,  who's  for  stiff enin'  people's 
nerve.  'Thar  ain't  no  more  chance  of  you  packin'  in 
than  of  holdin'  a  royal  flush.' 

"That's  what  Peets  imparts  to  Sandy;  but  he  puts  the 
rest  of  us  on  private,  that  Sandy,  when  it  comes  to  livin', 
ain't  got  a  look-in. 

"'It  may  be  to-morry,'  says  Peets;  'an'  then  ag'in  it 
may  be  years.  Soon  or  late,  however,  pore  Sandy'll 
blink  out  like  a  candle.' 

"'Which  he  gets  it  from  his  folks,'  says  Enright; 
'Sandy's  old  man  is  plenty  puny.' 

"Bern*  he's  on  what  he  deescribes  as  'waitin'  orders,' 
Sandy  employs  himse'f ,  as  I  states,  fiddlin'  in  the  dance 
hall.  An'  he's  a  shore  genius  when  it  comes  to  combinin' 
rosin,  hoss-ha'r  an'  catgut,  in  what  Colonel  Steritt 
in  the  Daily  Coyote  calls  'a  harmonious  whole!'  He'd 
lean  back  with  his  eyes  shet,  when  the  fit's  on  him,  an' 
the  wails  an'  sobs  an'  shrieks  he'd  lure  from  the  bosom 
of  that  instrooment,  would  shore  run  a  mountain  lion 

149 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

plumb  off  its  natif  heath.  Thar's  nothin'  to  it!  At 
sech  eepocks  I  holds  with  Boggs  that  Sandy,  if  he  pleases, 
could  play  a  fiddle  with  his  feet. 

"As  the  days  runs  into  months,  an*  Sandy  ain't  took 
the  big  jump  none  as  yet,  we-all  kind  o'  gives  up  lookin* 
for  it;  an',  when  it  does  come,  it's  in  the  nacher  of  as'prize. 
Peets  himse'f  ain't  thar  at  the  time,  bein'  over  to  the  Box- 
D  outfit,  tyin*  down  a  cow-puncher  who's  busted  his 
nigh  hind  laig.  Not  that  Peets  could  have  done  nothin' 
if  present;  Sandy  quits  that  quick,  it's  as  if  it's  a 
Colt's-45. 

"It's  along  towards  the  heel  of  the  dance  hall  hunt 
that  night  when  Sandy's  took.  The  gray-bloo  streaks 
of  mornin'  is  comin'  up  over  the  Floridas,  the  last  walse 
has  been  pulled  off,  an'  Sandy's  packin'  his  fiddle  away 
in  its  box.  He  says  somethin*  that  sounds  afterward 
like  he  feels  the  finish  ain't  a  foot  away. 

"'Looks  a  heap  like  a  coffin!'  he  observes  to  Dave 
Tutt,  an'  p'intin'  to  the  little  old  black  fiddle-box.  Then, 
as  if  a  idee  strikes  him:  'Dave,'  he  remarks,  'if  that 
last  walse  I  jest  scrapes  off,  turns  out  to  be  the  shore 
enough  last,  tell  the  boys  that  Dan's  to  have  Ole  Bull 
yere.'  Ole  Bull's  his  fiddle.  'Dan,'  he  goes  on,  'has 
been  a  heap  good  to  me;  an',  while  he  ain't  got  no  more 
moosic  in  him  than  a  coyote,  it'll  do  to  remember  me  by.' 

"That's  what  Sandy  says;  an'  the  next  moment  he 
comes  slidin'  from  his  perch  as  dead  as  Santa  Ana. 

" '  An'  you  can  bet  the  limit/  declar's  Texas  Thompson, 
as  Tutt  relates  the  eepisode,  'Sandy  has  preem'nitions. 
Shore,  folks  gets  some  mighty  mystic  hunches  that  a- way. 

150  " 


SANDY  CARR,  VIOLINIST 

As  the  poet  sharp  observes,  "  Comin'  eevents  casts  their 
shadows  before."  I  has  'em  myse'f.  That  time  my 
Laredo  wife  swats  me  over  the  forehead  with  a  dipper, 
I'm  seized  of  a  dozen  preem'nitions  all  at  once.  Aside 
from  what  stars  is  yoosual  on  sech  occasions,  I  sees  her 
gettin'  that  divorce,  an'  sellin'  up  them  steers  at  public 
vandoo  for  al'mony,  an'  the  whole  racket  same  as  though 
it's  in  a  vision.  That's  whatever!  Gents,  take  it  from 
me  that,  as  Sandy  stands  thar  tellin'  Dave  how  Dan's 
to  have  his  fiddle,  he  saveys  Death's  got  the  runnin'  iron 
on  him  right  then,  brandin'  him  for  the  ranges  eternal.' 

"Boggs  sheds  tears  when  he's  told,  bein'  as  I  explains 
freequent  a  mighty  eemotional  sport.  Then  he  allows, 
to  show  his  respect,  that  he'll  set  up  with  departed  ontil 
he's  ready  to  send  over  to  Tucson.  That  last's  the  way 
Sandy  himse'f  framed  it  up.  We  finds  a  note  to  Enright 
sayin'  that,  while  he  ain't  got  nothin'  ag'in  Boot  Hill 
as  a  place  of  sepulcher,  if  we-all  don't  mind  he'd  sooner 
be  sent  back  to  his  folks. 

"It's  arranged  that  Sandy's  to  go  p'intin'  out  for  the 
East  the  next  day,  the  same  bein'  as  soon  as  we-all  can 
get  a  box.  Meanwhile,  Boggs  gives  it  out  he  aims  as 
mourner  in  chief,  to  mount  gyard  over  the  remainder. 
Knowin'  how  plumb  ha'r-hung  Boggs'  sens'bilities  is, 
I  can't  say  I  regyards  his  resolootion  about  settin'  up 
with  Sandy  as  sagacious. 

"Pendin'  the  box,  we  files  Sandy  away  in  his  bed  over 
to  the  O.  K.  House,  where  he  belongs.  Sandy's  room, 
which  is  long  an'  narrow  like  a  rope-walk,  is  in  the  second 
storey  of  the  lean-to;  an',  since  the  bed  is  'way  yonder  at 

151 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

the  far  end,  we-all  hopes  that  Boggs,  by  settin'  near  the 
winder  where  he  can  look  across  to  the  Red  Light  an* 
see  the  boys,  scuffles  through  the  night  in  shape.  Some 
of  us  would  have  offered  to  double-up  in  them  vigils; 
but  Boggs  is  so  plumb  sensitive  it's  calk'lated  to  hurt  his 
feelin's,  an*  we  passes  the  idee  up.  At  the  worst  we  can 
stampede  over  to  sustain  him,  in  case  his  nerves  takes  to 
ghost-dancin'  an*  he  breaks  down  onder  the  strain. 

"It's  about  first  drink  time  in  the  evenin',  an*  we're 
all — that  is  all  but  Boggs,  who  is  over  with  Sandy — 
loafin'  sorrowfully  about  the  Red  Light,  regalin*  our 
selves  with  seegyars,  an'  h'istin'  in  the  yoosual  drinks, 
by  way  of  keepin*  up  our  sperits.  Rucker's  with  us; 
for  Missis  Rucker  lets  on  at  supper  time  that  she  an' 
Faro  Nell  is  goin'  to  pass  a  hour  or  two  with  Tucson 
Jennie,  an*  Rucker — the  old  horned  toad! — takes  ad 
vantage,  an*  escapes  across  to  us.  This  yere  double 
deesertion  don't  leave  nobody  in  the  O.  K.  House  except 
Boggs  an'  Sandy;  that  is  nobody  save  a  passel  of  Mexican 
meenyals,  who's  rustlin'  about  washin'  supper  plates  in 
the  kitchen. 

"Time  goes  on,  an'  it  looks  like  Boggs  is  goin'  to  get 
along  all  safe.  He's  some  wrought  up  though,  an'  at 
intervals  none  too  far  apart  comes  caperin'  over  for  his 
forty  drops  of  Old  Jordan. 

"'Bern'  deepressed  about  Sandy,  that  a-way,'  he 
reemarks,  'I'm  libatin'  freer  than  common.  But  gents, 
it's  all  in  the  day's  work!'  Yere  he  sighs  prodigious. 

"None  of  us  lets  fly  any  comments,  an'  when  he's 
got  his  licker  he  goes  pirootin*  back  to  Sandy. 

152 


SANDY  CARR,  VIOLINIST 

"Thar's  nothin'  gala  goin'  among  us,  as  we  sets  'round, 
an*  it  brings  relief  when  a  mealy  tenderfoot  wanders  up 
an*  heads  for  Rucker. 

"'Be  you  the  gent/  says  the  mealy  tenderfoot  to 
Rucker,  speakiri'  a  heap  diffident — 'be  you  the  gent  who 
keeps  the  feed  shop  over  the  way?' 

'"Which  my  wife—'  says  Rucker;  an'  then  he  ketches 
himse'f. 

"Rucker  ain't  got  no  more  spunk  than  jack-rabbits; 
but  he  notices  how  the  mealy  tenderfoot  looks  timid  an' 
'pologetic,  an'  allows  he'll  rough  him  some  by  way  of 
givin'  his  manhood  a  picnic,  him  not  darin',  while  Missis 
Rucker  is  rummagin'  about,  to  say  his  soul's  his  own. 

"'Be  I  what?'  deemands  Rucker,  shiftin'  his  manner 
from  feeble  to  fierce. 

'"Be  you  the  gent  who  deals  the  feed-game  across  the 
street?'  says  the  mealy  tenderfoot,  still  more  diffident. 

"'Well,  whatever  if  I  be?'  growls  Rucker. 

"Which,  he  shorely  is  the  surliest  boniface!  It's 
him  bein'  roped  up  from  among  them  Apaches,  where 
he's  livin'  at  peace  that  time,  which  sours  him.  An' 
yet  that  ain't  no  excoose;  an'  it's  even  money,  if  we-all 
ain't  bowed  down  about  Sandy,  Cherokee  or  Jack  Moore 
or  some  other  philanthropist  would  have  whacked  him 
over  the  head  with  a  gun. 

"'Nothin'  if  you  be,'  repeats  the  mealy  tenderfoot; 
'only  I  wants  somethin'  to  eat.' 

"Oh,  you  wants  somethin'  to  eat,'  retorts  Rucker, 
puttin'  on  dog  egreegious.     'Who  be  you?' 

"'Me?'   says   the   mealy  tenderfoot.     'I'm  travellin' 
11  153 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

salesman  for  the  One-Spoon  Bakin'  Powder  Company  of 
St.  Looey.  I've  been  workin*  the  Red  Dog  stores  all 
day;  an*  now  I'm  some  peckish,  an*  desires  food/ 

"'Well/  snarls  Rucker,  'you-all  don't  reckon  I'm 
goin'  to  prodooce  a  table  an*  feed  you  right  yere  in  the 
Red  Light,  do  you  ?  Your  best  hold  is  to  go  romancin' 
over  to  the  O.  K.  House,  camp  down  in  the  dinin*  room, 
an'  raise  th'  long  yell.  Most  likely,  if  you  yells  loud 
enough  an*  long  enough,  somebody'll  come  ransackin' 
along  an'  stake  you  to  some  grub,  merely  to  get  shet  of 
your  noise.' 

"With  this,  Rucker  settles  back  as  lofty  as  though  he 
an'  not  Missis  Rucker  is  boss. 

"'Rucker,'  breaks  out  Jack  Moore,  when  the  mealy 
one-spoon  person  has  started  off,  'you  certainly  are  the 
most  reepellant  landlord  I  ever  gets  ag'inst!  It's  half- 
in  half-out  of  my  mind  while  you're  runnin'  your  on- 
called  for  blazer,  to  pass  that  one-spoon  party  my  gun, 
an'  urge  him  to  t'ar  into  you/ 

"'But  you-all  don't  onderstand,  Jack/  expostchoo- 
lates  Rucker,  beginnin'  to  lay  down.  'Which  you  never 
runs  no  restauraw.  Some  of  these  yere  fly-by-night 
boarders  seems  to  think  I've  got  to  pack  'em  in  cotton 
battin'  an'  sing  'em  to  sleep/ 

"The  matter  drops,  an'  for  a  while  we  sets  'round 
placid  an'  wordless.  Then,  mebby  because  his  thoughts 
is  runnin'  on  Sandy,  Texas  Thompson  reelates  how  he 
once  sees  a  goblin  cow. 

"'It's  back  on  the  Canadian/  says  Texas.  'I'm 
settin'  by  my  camp  fire,  when  thar  of  a  sudden  stands  a 

154 


SANDY  CARR,  VIOLINIST 

cow.  I  can't  see  the  brand,  because  her  face  is  my  way, 
but  the  y'ear-marks  is  a  swallow-fork  in  each  y'ear. 
Thar  bein'  no  sech  y'ear-marks  on  that  range,  I  gets  the 
notion  it's  a  spook-cow,  an*  whanges  away  with  my 
six-shooter  accordin'.  When  the  smoke  cl'ars  aside, 
thar  I  be  alone  as  former;  no  cow,  no  nothin'.  From 
which  I'm  driven  to  conclood  it's  a  spook-cow.' 

"At  this  junctchoor,  Boggs  comes  trapsin'  across  for 
more  licker,  an*  by  way  of  washin'  the  taste  of  Texas's 
goblin  cow  out  of  our  mouths  we  j'ins  him.  Boggs, 
bein'  refreshed,  goes  teeterin'  back  ag'in  to  Sandy,  an* 
we-all  settles  down  once  more. 

"Cherokee  gets  garroolous  next,  an*  is  beginnin'  to 
wonder  wherever  Hamilton'll  round  up  another  fiddler, 
when  the  timid  one-spoon  person  returns,  an'  fronts  up 
to  Rucker  the  second  time. 

" '  Now  that  my  hunger's  appeased,'  says  the  one-spoon 
person,  'I  wants  to  go  to  bed.  I've  been  skallyhootin' 
hither  an'  yon  all  day  with  them  Red  Dog  tarrapins, 
an'  I'm  about  dead  on  my  laigs.' 

"An','  breaks  in  Rucker,  beginnin'  to  bristle — which 
knowin'  he's  safe,  the  temptation  to  buffalo  that  one- 
spoon  stranger  is  too  strong — 'of  course  it's  up  to  me 
to  sashay  over  an'  tuck  you  in  a  whole  lot.  Listen! 
If  you're  honin'  for  sleep,  you  clinch  onto  one  of  them 
candles  standin'  on  the  side  table;  an'  if  a  blanket-bed 
with  a  goose-ha'r  pillow  is  anywhere  near  your  speed, 
you'll  find  them  luxuries  waitin'  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.' 

"Well/   retorts  the  one-spoon  person,   who's   food 
155 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

had  braced  him  up  a  lot,  'all  I  got  to  say  is  you're  a 
mighty  ornery  host/ 

"'Never  mind/  says  Rucker,  'about  me  bein'  ornery. 
Your  only  show  for  a  bed  is  to  obey  my  mandates/ 

"As  the  one-spoon  person  departs,  Boggs  comes  rack- 
in*  along  back  for  further  licker. 

"'I  don't  want  to  vie  with  you  none,  Monte/  says 
Boggs,  addressin'  Old  Monte,  who's  jest  up  from  the 
stage  office,  an'  who,  as  I  long  ago  tells  you  is  Wolfville's 
offishul  sot,  'but  I  shorely  don't  recall  when  I'm  quite 
this  parched.  It's  woe  does  it/ 

"Boggs  dallies  'round  about  his  drink,  bein'  lonesome 
I  reckon,  an'  consoomes  all  the  time  he  can.  As  he  stands 
by  the  bar,  sniffin'  his  rum  delicate,  he  turns  to  Enright. 

'"You-all  used  to  know  Sandy's  pap,  Sam?'  he 
observes.  'What  for  an  old  maverick  was  he?' 

'"The  old  man's  dead  now/  replies  Enright,  who 
onderstands  how  Boggs  is  shakin'  the  bresh  for  preetexts, 
an'  is  willin'  to  he'p  him  out.  'Speakin'  of  the  tomb, 
he  beat  Sandy  to  it  by  three  years.  I  recalls  the  first 
time  I  sees  this  yere  old  Carr;  it's  one  of  them  summers  I 
goes  visitin'  my  fam'ly  in  Tennessee.  The  day  is  plenty 
fervent,  bein'  August;  the  sun  blazin'  down  direct,  fairly 
b'ilin'  the  black  mud  of  the  Cumberland  bottoms.  I've 
cinched  a  saddle  onto  a  hoss,  an'  am  workin'  off  towards 
the  Upper  Hawgthief  to  see  some  cousins.  As  I  goes 
perusin'  on  my  windin*  way,  I  crosses  up  with  a  measly 
little  one-room  shack,  in  the  black  midst  of  them  bubblin' 
sweatin'  bottoms.  Thar's  a  shrivelled  rag  of  a  party 
camped  out  in  front.  He's  settin'  on  a  elm  stump,  that's 

156 


SANDY  CARR,  VIOLINIST 

plumb  oncovered  to  the  blisterin'  sun;  an'  what's  more, 
he's  got  a  blanket  overcoat  wropped  about  him,  collar 
turned  up,  same  as  if  he's  in  Nova  Zembla. 

"'As  I  pulls  to  a  halt,  he  brings  his  peaked  weasel 
face  around,  an'  glances  out  from  onder  his  old  wool 
hat. 

"'"Why  don't  you  reemove  a  heap  into  the  shade  of 
yonder  tree?"  I  asks,  breakin'  ground  for  better  ac 
quaintance. 

"'"Cause  the  chill's  on,"  says  Weasel-face.  "Bime- 
by,  when  the  fever's  on,  I'll  shore  hunt  some  shade." 

"'"How  long  have  you  reesided  yere?"  I  asks. 

'""  Thirty  year,"  says  Weasel-face. 

"'"How  long  have  you  had  the  agger?" 

'""Thirty  year." 

'""Whyever  don't  you  pull  your  freight?" 

'""Which  you-all  can't  none,  an'  no  money." 

'""What's  the  matter  of  earnin'  money?"  I  says. 
"It  looks  like  in  thirty  years  you  might  have  caught  on 
to  some  sort  o'  bank-roll." 

'""You  think  so,  stranger!"  retorts  Weasel-face, 
sneerin*  up  at  me  from  onder  the  wool  hat.  "  Now  look 
yere:  Since  I've  had  the  agger — an*  that's  thirty  year — 
I  ain't  been  fit  for  nothin'  but  to  shake  down  persimmons 
an'  sift  meal,  an'  you  can't  accumyoolate  no  riches  at  sech 
arts." 

"That  Weasel-faced,  agger-eaten  party,  gents,'  con- 
cloods  Enright,  signin'  up  to  Black  Jack  for  the  glasses, 
'is  none  other  than  old  Carr,  Sandy's  pap;  an',  as  I  men 
tions  prior,  I  always  allows  Sandy  bein'  ricketty  an' 

157 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

weakly  that  a-way,  is  doo  primar'ly  to  the  fever-soaked 
stock  he  comes  from/ 

"Boggs  takes  advantage  of  Enright's  signals  to  Black 
Jack,  an*  hangs  on  desperate.  Then  Old  Monte,  sort 
o'  onbucklin'  with  his  rum,  begins  to  remember  things, 
an'  that  gives  Boggs  a  fresh  excoose.  The  old  drunkard's 
told  the  aneckdote  more'n  forty  times,  but  Boggs  clings 
to  every  word,  same  as  if  it's  a  roast  apple,  an'  heaves 
in  questions,  an*  tantalizes  'round  pretendin'  he's  breath 
less  with  interest,  an*  the  tale  plumb  new  entire.  The 
yarn's  about  how  Old  Monte  gets  stuck  up  once  in  the 
North  Georgia  Mountains,  by  moonshiners,  an'  is  drug 
off  his  buckboard,  an'  herded  along  down  a  mountain 
side  to  shave  a  dead  man. 

"'They-all  not  havin'  no  razor,'  explains  Old  Monte; 
'an',  in  foolish  forgetfulness  born  of  grief,  promisin' 
deefunct  to  shave  him  before  they  mows  him  away  in 
the  grave.  Talk  of  patriarchs;  that  old  chief  of  the  moon 
shiners  has  a  beard  big  enough  to  stuff  a  pillow!  Which 
them  mourners  that  corrals  me,  an'  my  razor,  is  that 
grateful  when  I'm  through,  they  endows  me  with  a  gallon 
of  moonshine  whiskey  pale  as  water.  I'd  have  give  'em 
the  razor;  only  I'm  afraid  they'll  feel  crit'cized.  So, 
after  I'm  out  o'  sight,  I  flings  it  away  in  a  canyon.  Gents, 
them  Georgia  mountaineers  is  barbarians!'  an*  with 
this  yere  dictum,  Old  Monte  buries  his  nose  in  his  licker 
afresh." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BOGGS   AND   THE    GHOST 

NOTHIN'  new  in  the  way  of  topics  bein'  started, 
Boggs    goes    slowly    an*    reluctantly    over    to 
Sandy  ag'in.     When  he's  gone,  we-all  subsides 
into  quietood. 

"The  silence  final  grows  irksome,  an'  Cherokee  gets 
to  expandin'  concernin'  sperit-rappin's,  table-tippin',  and 
sim'lar  cantrips,  all  onexplan'ble. 

"'At  that/  says  Cherokee,  an'  his  manner  is  sech  as 
to  throw  doubt  on  his  words,  *I  don't  attriboote  them 
pheenomenons  to  occult  inflooences  none.  But  what 
I  do  know  is  that  when  old  Two-p'ar  Blakely — he's 
called  Two-p'ar  that  a-way  from  a  habit  he  has  of  raisin' 
before  the  draw  when  possessed  of  two-p'ars — loses  his 
last  chip  ag'inst  Crawford's  bank  in  Vegas,  an'  falls 
dead  across  the  lay-out,  somethin'  not  in  the  game  gives 
the  table  sech  a  thump  the  deal-box  jumps  a  foot,  an* 
every  stack  in  the  check-rack  goes  crashin'  to  the  floor.' 
"These  yere  reminescences  leaves  us  so  spraddled  out 
in  sperit,  that  when  Black  Jack  behind  the  bar  drops  a 
glass,  every  gent  springs  to  his  feet,  an'  Rucker  falls 
plumb  off  the  candle  box  he's  usin'  as  a  seat. 

"Whatever's   the   good,  Cherokee,'   exclaims   Texas 
Thompson,   who's   been   harrowed   excessive   by   them 

159 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

particulars  touchin'  Two-p'ar  Blakely — "whatever's  the 
good  of  bringin'  up  sech  fool  mem'ries?  It's  enough  to 
curdle  folks!' 

"'Which  if  it's  any  more  curdlin','  returns  Cherokee, 
plenty  testy,  'than  that  mirac'lous  cow  you  encounters 
on  the  Canadian,  I  asks  you  to  p'int  out  in  what  respecks.' 

"Before  Texas  can  reply,  a  turrible  eevent  takes  place. 
We're  grouped  about  on  the  platform  in  front  of  the  Red 
Light  at  the  time,  an'  it's  sech  a  combination  of  the  fright 
ful  an'  the  abrupt  it  simply  congeals  us  where  we  be. 
Talk  of  pans  of  milk  from  top  shelves!  Sech  catastro- 
phies  is  slow  an'  gyarded  in  their  approach,  an'  can  be 
seen  comin'  for  months,  compar'd  to  what  ensoos. 

"At  that,  if  we  has  Doc  Peets  among  us,  I  always 
figgers  we'd  have  come  through  onscathed.  Peets,  as 
I  mentions  once  or  twice  perhaps,  is  the  best  eddicated 
gent  between  the  Colorado  an*  the  Rio  Grande;  an', 
when  mysteries  commence  to  thicken  an*  you-all  go 
gropin'  'round  for  eloocidations,  thar's  nothin'  like  havin' 
a  eddicated  scientist  at  your  elbow  to  appeal  to  with  your 
troubles.  But  Peets  is  miles  distant  at  the  Box-D,  an* 
we're  left  in  our  he'pless  darkened  way  to  face  our  doom 
alone. 

"Jest  as  Cherokee  grows  peevish  with  Texas,  like  I  re 
lates,  we  hears  a  horrifyin'  crash  .from  t'other  side  of  the 
street,  an'  next  thar's  Boggs  hurlin'  himse'f,  without  the 
slightest  reference  to  how  he's  goin'  to  'light,  from  the 
window  of  Sandy's  lean-to.  It  checks  our  breath,  an' 
throws  our  hearts  back  on  their  haunches!  The  shock 
is  multiplied  when,  with  not  a  moment  to  s'par'  between 

160 


BOGGS  AND  THE  GHOST 

'em,  a  white,  ghastly  flutterin'  ghost-thing  throws  itse'f 
from  the  same  window,  an*  swoops  shriekin'  down  on 
top  of  Boggs.  Not  that  it  captures  Boggs;  before  it 
more'n  gets  to  touch  him,  he's  up  an*  off  like  a  scared 
wolf.  Also,  the  howls  he  eemits  as  he  flies,  would  have 
drove  wolves  to  sooicide. 

"  When  Boggs  takes  to  flight,  the  white  ghostly  thing  is 
not  to  be  shook  from  its  purpose.  With  a  screech,  the 
frightful  equal  of  Boggs's  best,  it  lines  out  on  his  trail, 
not  the  length  of  a  lariat  behind. 

"Thar's  nothin'  we-all  can  do  but  stand  thar  frozen, 
our  veins  ice,  hopin'  all  we  know  for  Boggs.  Troo,  Jack 
Moore,  who  as  kettle  tender  for  the  stranglers  feels  like 
affairs  is  up  to  him  offishul,  does  pull  his  gun.  But 
whatever  good  is  guns  at  sech  eepocks  ? 

"The  night  is  bright  moonlight,  an*  moonlight  in 
Arizona  is  better  than  sunlight  in  a  fog-obscured  East. 
Bein'  almost  as  bright  as  noon,  the  dimmest  eye  among 
us  has  no  trouble  in  keepin'  tabs  on  the  awful  chase. 
Boggs  splits  the  air  like  an  alarmed  comet,  the  white 
flutterin'  specter-thing  at  his  heels,  an'  both  sendin' 
forth  yell  for  yell  to  make  you  creep.  The  whole  hid- 
jeous  spectacle  don't  consoome  a  minute.  Boggs,  evolv- 
in'  a  screech  for  every  jump,  heads  out  onto  the  plains, 
the  ghost-thing — splittin'  even  on  jumps  an'  screeches — 
hangin'  to  his  r'ar  like  he  owes  him  money. 

"When  they've  run  mebby  half  a  mile,  Boggs  veers 
to  the  left,  an',  comin'  'round  on  a  broad  curve,  re-makes 
frenzied  tracks  for  camp.  Before  we-all  can  even  think, 
let  alone  arrange  for  their  reception,  pursooer  an'  pur- 

161 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

sooed,  the  ghost-thing  an*  Boggs,  is  t'arin'  down  upon  us 
like  the  breath  of  destiny.  Which  we  never  moves! 
We're  rooted  to  the  spot,  our  quakin'  moccasins  glued  in 
terror  to  the  floor!  On  they  comes;  Boggs  holdin'  his 
own! 

"Now  dawns  the  end.  Jest  as  Boggs  is  flashin'  by 
the  Red  Light,  a  howl  of  despair  in  his  throat,  he  stumbles 
an*  falls.  Tharupon  the  flutterin'  ghost-thing  trips  over 
him,  an*  rolls  twenty  feet  beyond. 

"  The  ghost-thing  spreads  itse'f  out  flat  when  it  stops, 
right  where  the  light  from  the  Red  Light  windows  falls 
all  across  it.  With  that  the  scales  falls  from  our  eyes. 

"'I'm  a  Mexican/  exclaims  Tutt,  'if  it  ain't  that 
reedic'lous  one-spoon  bakin'-powder  sport!' 

"Not  a  word  is  uttered  as  every  one  collects  a  deep 
breath.  Tutt  calls  the  turn;  the  specter,  who's  been 
swingin'  an'  rattlin'  so  deemoniac  with  pore  Boggs,  is 
none  other  than  that  same  one-spoon  boarder,  who's, 
earlier  in  the  evenin',  been  pesterin'  'round  Rucker. 
Rucker  himse'f  is  the  last  to  learn  the  news,  seein'  he's 
down  on  his  knees,  repeatin'  '  Now  I  lay  me '  to  beat  four 
of  a  kind,  when  Tutt  solves  the  specter's  identity. 

"Boggs,  gaspin'  an'  speechless,  eyes  rollin',  fingers 
clutchin',  is  he'ped  to  a  cha'r,  an*  licker  administered. 
That  done,  we  grapples  onto  the  one-spoon  person,  an' 
sets  him  on  his  two  feet. 

"It's  then  that  Tucson  Jennie,  Faro  Nell  an'  Missis 
Rucker  comes  chargin'  up  on  the  lope;  an',  since  the  one- 
spoon  person  is  but  lightly  arrayed,  bein'  caparisoned  for 
slumber  that  a-way,  we  wrops  him  in  a  hoss-blanket 

162 


BOGGS  AND  THE  GHOST 

so  as  to  save  'em  all  we  can.  Shore,  thar's  no  standin' 
'em  off,  not  even  with  a  Winchester,  they're  that  inquis'- 
tive!  You  know  what  ladies  be;  speshully  in  moments 
of  thrillin'  excitement,  crowded  full  with  ontoward 
eevents  ? 

"Enright,  who  all  through  comes  the  nearest  to  re- 
tainin'  his  aplomb,  begins  to  put  questions. 

" '  Which  I  asks  your  forbearance,'  says  the  one-spoon 
person,  replyin'  to  Enright — he's  got  Boggs  skinned  in  the 
matter  of  comin'  'round.  'As  soon  as  ever  I  re-organizes 
my  frazzled  .faculties,  I'll  shore  explain  the  best  I  can. 
When,  at  the  behests  of  yonder  viper ' — yere  he  p'ints  at 
Rucker,  shakin'  an'  shiverin'  about  the  suburbs  of  the 
group — 'who's  onfit  to  run  a  boardin'  house  for  rattle 
snakes,  an'  whom  I  intends  to  fully  immolate  so  soon  as 
my  strength  returns,  when,  I  say,  at  the  behests  of  that 
viper,  I  leaves  you-all  an'  goes  lookin'  for  a  couch,  I 
follows  his  croode  directions  to  the  letter.  I  takes  a 
candle,  climbs  the  stair,  an'  thar  at  the  stair-head,  like 
he  says,  I  sees  a  open  door.  Which  it's  the  door  to  the 
room  from  the  window  whereof  you  so  lately  beholds  me 
come  soarin';  an'  to  which  I  shall  refoose  to  return, 
though  as  a  consequence  I  sleeps  in  the  street.  The  door 
bein'  open,  I  enters.  Thar's  a  candle  burnin'  on  the 
table  by  the  window,  where  also  reposes  a  fiddle-box.' 

'"  Which  Dan,'  breaks  in  Texas  Thompson,  'insists 
on  takin'  the  fiddle  with  him,  allowin'  it'll  please  Sandy 
a  heap,  should  he  be  hoverin'  near.' 

' '  Down  at  the  far  end  of  the  apartment,'  goes  on  the 
one-spoon  person,  'I  makes  out  a  gent  in  bed.     I  takes 

163 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

him  for  the  individyooal  who  belongs  with  the  fiddle- 
box.  Of  course,  I  wasn't  brought  up  two-in-a-bed  at 
home;  but  I  ain't  met  with  no  sech  gracious  reception, 
since  I've  been  squanderin'  about  in  Arizona,  as  to  en 
courage  me  in  makin'  any  kicks.  So  I  keeps  mighty 
quiet,  makin'  up  my  mind  to  tolerate  the  fiddle 
party.  I  lays  aside  my  raiment,  an'  takes  up  a  place  on 
the  extreme  outside  edge  of  the  couch,  so's  not  to  dis 
turb  the  troobadour.  I  blows  out  my  own  candle,  leavin' 
t'other  gutterin'  away  like  I  finds  it.  That's  another 
lesson  I  learns  early  in  these  yere  regions,  which  is  never 
to  disturb  local  conditions.  Wharfore,  I  lets  the  orig'nal 
light  burn  on.' 

"'Which  you  ain't  no  such  dullard  as  you  looks!' 
interjecks  Tutt,  aimin'  to  reasshore  the  one-spoon  person, 
who  continyoos  to  be  some  tremyoolous. 

"'Bern*  weary  of  the  world/  goes  on  the  latter,  'I 
falls  asleep  plenty  prompt.  When  I  rouses,  which  is 
most  likely  within  a  few  minutes,  I'm  some  smitten  of 
wonder  at  a  party  settin'  by  the  table,  fondlin'  the  fiddle- 
box.  "  Whatever  is  he  after  ?  "  I  asks  myse'f .  "  Shorely 
he  can't  think  of  stakin*  out  a  claim  on  a  room  as 
to  which  two  of  us  has  already  took  out  papers!"  Roo- 
minatin*  thus,  I  r'ars  up  on  my  elbow  to  begin  a  conver 
sation.  The  same,  when  begun,  is  broke  off  at  the  first 
word,  by  the  gent  I'm  addressin'  divin'  head-first  through 
the  window,  carryin'  sash  an*  all.' 

"Onder  the  circumstances,  I  should  say  as  much!' 
ejaculates  Jack  Moore,  who's  drinkin'  in  every  word. 
"Gents,   the  rest  though  fear-inspirin'   an'  painful 
164 


BOGGS  AND  THE  GHOST 

shouldn't  take  long.  As  the  party  by  the  table  makes 
that  onlooked  for  header  through  the  window,  I  starts  to 
wake  up  the  troobadour  to  collect  his  views  on  what's 
took  place.  I  needn't  dilate;  suffice  it  that  I  go  through 
the  window  a  moment  later,  plumb  greedy  for  the  trip. 
The  rest  you  know;  an'  now,  if  some  Samaritan'll 
organize  a  rescoo  expedition  to  go  an'  fetch  my  clothes, 
I'll  be  deeply  thankful/ 

"'What  you've  said,'  remarks  Enright,  'is  a  heap  clar'- 
fyin';  but  you  don't  furnish  s'fficient  reason  for  huntin' 
an'  harrassin'  our  inoffensive  townsman  up  an'  down 
the  face  of  nacher,  an'  scarin'  him  to  death.' 

"'Believe  me,'  says  the  one-spoon  person,  'I  keenly 
realizes  it's  thar  my  deefence  is  weak.  Thar's  no  reason 
which  I  can  assign  for  pursooin*  your  friend,  except 
that  when  I  hits  the  ground  my  feelin's  is  in  a  toomult, 
an'  the  sight  of  him,  runnin'  an'  racin'  an'  yellin',  fac'n- 
ates  me  into  givin'  forth  kindred  yells  of  sympathy  an' 
followin'  his  lead.  I  suppose  I  nacherally  ups  an' 
chases  him  a  whole  lot  for  luck.  Also,  permit  me  to 
remark  that  the  route  he  seelects  incloodes  vegetation  of 
both  a  cactus  an'  a  mesquite  order,  an'  it  looks  now  in 
consequence — me  bein'  b'arfoot  that  a-way — like  my 
expense  account  ag'inst  the  One-Spoon  Bakin'  Powder 
Company'll  have  to  carry  a  hoss  an'  wagon  from  now 
till  further  notice.' 

"Thar's  nothin'  more  to  relate,"  concluded  the  old 
gentleman.  "The  most  gallin'  feachure  is  when  a  band 
of  Red  Dog  scorners  comes  troopin'  up,  spurs  jinglin', 
leathers  creakin',  sayin'  from  our  screams  they  takes  it 

165  * 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

we're  bein'  skelped  by  Injuns,  an'  has  come  to  give  us 
their  protection.  Boggs?  It  takes  weeks,  an'  no  end 
of  drugs,  an'  two  of  us  standin'  watch  an'  watch  by  his 
blankets;  but  in  the  end  we  brings  him  back  to  health. 
He's  plumb  patient,  an*  declar's  that  no  one's  to  blame 
but  himse'f. 

"'  Gents,'  he  says,  *  sooperstition  is  my  weakness — the 
one  weakness  in  a  constitootion  otherwise  without  a 
flaw.'  Then,  alloodin'  to  a  long-ago  sport  that  Peets  was 
tellin'  of  one  evenin' :  '  Ghosts  is  my  Achilles'  heel,  gents. 
That's  whatever,  they're  my  Achilles'  heel!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

COTTONWOOD    WASSON 

NEVER  but  once  is  Old  Man  Enright  floored," 
observed  my  gray  raconteur  reminiscently; 
"that  is  floored  through  one  of  them  masterly 
manoovers,  by  which  a  gent  goes  round  another  gent's 
flank  an'  crawls  his  hump  strategic.  An'  yet  I  don't 
aim  to  be  onderstood  none  as  sayin'  that  Enright  never 
is  up  ag'inst  it.  Which  of  course  he  ain't  no  more  up 
holstered  to  make  aces-up  beat  three-of-a-kind  than  you 
or  me,  an'  when  brought  to  bay  by  sech  barriers  of  nacher 
he,  like  other  folks,  is  shore  obleeged  to  lay  down.  What 
I'm  tryin'  to  say  is  that,  where  it's  a  case  of  savey  an' 
seein'  your  way  through,  Enright  never  gets  downed  but 
once. 

"It's  Cotton  wood  Wasson  who  performs  this  mir'cle. 
An'  what  contreebutes,  speshul,  to  the  strangeness  of  the 
play  is  that  this  Cottonwood  person  is  nothin'  more'n  a 
yooth — a  callow  yooth — camped  on  the  sunrise  side  of 
twenty.  Enright,  as  ag'inst  this  yere  callowness  of 
Cottonwood's,  shows  three  times  the  years.  I  never 
counts  the  rings  on  his  horns,  personal,  holdin'  it  bad 
manners  to  go  projectin'  about  locatin'  another  gent's  age, 
but  it's  safe  to  say  he's  sixty.  Now  thar's  a  heap  of 
experience  comin'  to  a  gent  in  sixty  years — a  heap  of 

167 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

cattle  to  travel  the  trail — an'  for  him,  with  all  he's  seen  an* 
met  an*  coped  with,  to  be  took  out  of  the  saddle  by  a  child, 
is  strange  to  the  p'int  of  crowdin'  the  yoonique.  Enright 
says  himse'f  that,  on  the  hocks  of  it,  his  conceit  goes  to 
bed  sick  for  a  week.  The  deevice,  too,  which  overcomes 
him  is  as  simple  as  seven-up — an*  something  like  it — 
after  Cherokee  explains.  It  lets  Cotton  wood  out  though; 
an*  fools  Enright  to  a  frazzle — fools  him  likewise  in 
his  offishul  c'pacity  as  chief  of  the  stranglers,  which  is 
drawin'  the  cinch  plenty  tight." 

The  old  gentleman  made  a  profound  pause,  and  for 
got  everything  else — apparently — while  he  filled  his  pipe. 
I  was  too  well  taught  to  put  a  question,  or  break  out  in 
comment.  He  would  back  away  from  either  like  a  pony 
at  sight  of  a  bridle.  Therefore,  I  puffed  at  my  cigar  in 
silence.  My  wary  forbearance  went  not  without  results. 
Pipe  lighted,  grizzled  head  in  a  cloud  of  smoke  through 
which  his  fine  if  wrinkled  features  gleamed  out  upon  me 
as  through  a  fog,  he  again  took  up  the  thread  of  narra 
tive. 

"This  Cotton  wood  Wasson,"  he  continued  in  a  musing 
way,  "don't  live  in  Wolfville.  For  that  matter  I  ain't 
none  shore  he  reesides  anywhere.  My  idee  is  that  he 
passes  his  shallow  days  cavortin'  round  permiscus,  now 
in  Wolfville,  now  in  Red  Dog  or  Tucson  or  Colton  or 
Lordsburg,  or  mebby  even  Silver  City.  Which  he  is 
certainly  the  restlessest  party  whoever  onbosoms  him- 
se'f  in  whoops,  an'  it  looks  like  his  natif  element  is  too- 
mult.  Not  that  he's  hostile,  or  prone  to  lock  horns  with 
peaceful  folks  an*  paw  for  trouble,  but  his  common  gait 

168 


COTTONWOOD  WASSON 

is  to  go  chargin'  up  an*  down  the  street,  between  drinks, 
spurrin'  his  mustange  to  a  frenzy  of  buckin',  meanwhile 
slammin'  away  with  his  six-shooter  at  tin  tomatter  cans, 
an*  empty  beer  bottles,  an'  sim'lar  obsolete  truck. 

"But  Cotton  wood  never  shoots  at  no  people.  That 
is,  never  onless  you  insists  on  countin*  a  Chinaman, 
which  Wolfville  is  too  conservative  to  do.  What! — 
Chinamen  is  folks  ?  Not  in  the  eddicated  estimation  of 
Arizona,  son!  His  merely  bein'  willin'  to  work  can't  be 
permitted  to  pedestal  him  as  part  of  an  American  pop'la- 
tion.  If  that's  argyment,  we'll  be  lettin'  mules  an' 
Mexicans  vote  before  we  quit. 

"No;  Cottonwood  don't  bump  off  this  opium  slave 
complete.  He's  only  tryin'  a  snap-shot  at  his  cue  at  the 
time,  an'  perhaps  his  hand  shakes,  or  the  chink  makes  a 
fool  move  or  something,  an'  the  bullet  sort  o'  burns  his 
neck.  Which  you  might  have  been  jestified  in  thinkin* 
he's  beefed,  however,  from  the  yells  he  turns  loose.  They 
even  hears  'em  in  Red  Dog,  an'  lets  on  later  to  some 
teamsters  from  Tucson  that  they  allows  it's  one  of  us — 
sech  is  the  envy  wherewith  them  cheap  Red  Dog  out 
casts  regyards  Wolfville  an'  its  citizens. 

"Boggs  at  the  time  insists  that  measures  should  be 
took  with  Cottonwood.  He  even  stirs  up  Enright,  who 
tries  to  smooth  him  out. 

"It's  only  the  exyooberance  of  boyhood,'  says  En- 
right.  'An'  you  was  a  boy  once,  yourse'f,  Dan.'  Which 
Enright  is  plumb  forbearin'  that-a-way  with  the  young. 

"'Jest  the  same,'  argues  Boggs,  'I  holds  it's  up  to  you, 
as  chief  of  the  vig'lance  committee,  to  mark  out  a  res- 
!2  169 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

ervation  for  this  headlong  Cottonwood.  Have  lariats  an* 
windmills  no  purpose?  Is  the  stranglers  a  joke?  Is 
that  forum  of  jestice  conceived  in  a  sperit  of  mirth?' 

"'No/  says  Enright,  some  emphatic,  'it  ain't.  But 
what,  I  asks  you  as  a  member  of  the  committee,  do  you 
desire  to  do?  As  yet  we  have  no  calaboose,  though 
plans  is  bein'  formyoolated  an*  that  capstone  to  civiliza 
tion  is  on  its  way.  Pendin'  said  calaboose,  however, 
what  would  you  su'gest  ?  I  shorely  trusts  you  ain't  that 
inhooman  as  to  advise  a  rope  for  a  boy  in  his  teens.  An* 
for  nothin'  more  heenous  than  crackin'  off  his  45!' 

"'But  he  disturbs  my  peace,'  urges  Boggs  petyoo- 
lantly.  'I  tells  you  he  gives  me  indigestion.  I'm  gettin' 
along  into  middle  years,  an'  my  stomach  ain't  what  it  was; 
but  if  ever  Doc  Peets  tells  me  that  the  way  I  feels  is  doo, 
primar'ly,  to  them  lone-hand  fest'vals  which  this  yere 
Cottonwood  engages  in,  I'll  wear  out  my  six-shooter  on 
his  empty  head.  Which  I'll  shore  buffalo  that  young 
merry-maker  into  a  more  mod'rate  frame,  or  my 
name  ain't  Boggs.  I  don't  hunger  to  win  fame  as  the 
Wolfville  Herod,  an'  slaughter  children;  I'm  no  one  to 
imbroo  my  hands  in  the  blood  of  babes  an'  sucklin's; 
but  thar's  exceptions  to  every  roole,  hoomane  or  other 
wise.' 

"Boggs  goes  pacin'  up  an'  down  the  Red  Light  as  he 
makes  these  fulminations,  while  Enright  sits  benign  an' 
comfortably  placid.  We're  all  that  used  to  Boggs' 
peevishness,  him  bein'  by  nacher  nervous  to  the  verge  of 
emotional,  no  one  pays  much  heed.  But  at  that,  Cotton- 
wood  don't  escape  without  rebooke;  for  jest  as  Boggs 

170 


COTTONWOOD  WASSON 

ceases,  who  should  come  plungin'  along,  but  Armstrong 
from  the  New  York  Store.  Like  Boggs,  he  says  that 
hobbles  must  be  put  on  Cotton  wood,  or  subsequent 
deevelopments  may  come  off  in  the  smoke. 

"'Which  I  must  say/  remarks  Enright  after  listenin' 
to  Armstrong  a  heap  disgusted,  'that  thar's  a  powerful 
sight  of  tomtom  playin'  an'  skelp  dancin'  about  nothin'. 
Yere's  a  boy,  possessed  of  them  effervescent  sperits 
yoosual  with  his  time  of  life,  runs  his  pony  up  the  street, 
bangs  away  with  his  gun,  an'  casyooally  creases  a  chink. 
Wharupon  two  fullgrown  gents  goes  teeteerin*  'round, 
talkin'  of  vig'lance  committees,  with  ropes  an'  wind 
mills  for  a  finish.  This  yere  attitoode  of  narrowness, 
Armstrong,  don't  do  you  an'  Dan  no  credit.  You-all 
acts  as  though  a  Chinaman  is  jooelry.' 

"'Chinaman!'  exclaims  Armstrong,  full  of  contempt. 
'Do  you  reckon,  I'd  leave  my  business  to  bluff  'round 
about  a  saddle-colored  serf  of  the  orient?  Which  the 
warmth  of  your  manner  is  explained.  No;  yere's  the 
prop'sition:  This  sportive  yooth  is  interferin'  with 
trade.  That  Mongol  is  on  his  way  to  my  store  to  spend 
money  when  Cottonwood  opens  on  him.  What  I  says 
is  that  sech  action  is  inconsid'rate  an'  he  should  be  taught 
to  think  before  he  shoots.' 

"Enright  signs  up  the  bar-keep  to  set  out  the  licker. 

"I  was  shore  obtoose,'  he  says,  softly,  his  manner 
apol'getic,  'an'  I  must  say  I  can't  see  how  I'm  so  dull  as 
to  go  followin'  off  the  wrong  wagon-track  that  a-way. 
You're  plumb  right,  Armstrong.  This  Chinaman  is 
out  to  buy  soap  or  starch  or  blooin'  or  what  other  chem'c- 

171 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

als  he  employs  in  his  suds-sloppin',  when  Cottonwood 
heads  him  off  with  that  gun-play.  Shore,  I'll  give  him 
warnin'.  A  Chinaman  is  one  thing;  but  commerce 
must  not  an'  shall  not  be  shot  up/ 

"  Jack  Moore,  at  Enright's  behest,  brings  in  the  eboo- 
lient  Cottonwood,  who  seems  a  heap  cast  down.  He's 
that  modest  it  half  way  disarms  Boggs,  who  whispers  to 
Enright  that  he  reckons  if  he  counsels  Cottonwood  to 
practyce  more  reserve  with  that  six-shooter  of  his,  it  will 
likely  answer  all  demands. 

"'Which  I  adopts  your  view,  Sam/  observes  Boggs, 
surveyin'  Cottonwood,  who  shore  does  look  mighty 
young  an'  small;  'it's  plain  he  ain't  lynchin'  size  as  yet.' 

"For  all  Boggs'  intercessions,  Enright  assoomes  a  sour, 
forbiddin'  manner.  'Cottonwood,'  he  says,  'I  wouldn't 
if  I  was  you  bank  too  strong  on  my  want  of  years,  to  go 
pressin'  the  limit  of  the  public  patience.  We've  put  up 
with  a  sight  from  you;  an'  it's  the  opinion  of  gents,  ex 
pert  in  sech  matters,  that,  if  you  go  romancin'  along  as 
headed,  you'll  onexpectedly  enter  upon  life  everlastin'. 
It's  bad  enough  to  go  settin'  Dan  an'  other  sens'tive 
folks  on  edge  with  your  hubbubs,  but  to-day  you  takes  a 
further  downward  step,  an'  puts  at  deefiance  the  rooles 
of  trade.  Do  you-all  realize  how  that  Chinaman,  when 
you  singed  him,  is  on  his  way  to  buy  things  at  the  New 
York  Store?' 

"Cottonwood  protests  that  the  idee  never  enters  his 
head. 

"'It's  then  as  I  thought,'  goes  on  Enright,  sort  o'  re- 
laxin'.  'What  you  does  is  not  doo  to  malice;  but  jest  the 

172 


COTTONWOOD  WASSON 

same  it's  indiscrete.  Now  I  won't  tell  you  twice,  Cotton- 
wood.  Wolfville  will  not  tol'rate  interference  with 
business  interests.  Yereafter,  when  moved  to  go  burnin' 
up  the  scenery  about  a  Chinaman  with  your  gun,  be 
shore  it's  after  he  makes  his  purchases.  Now  vamos, 
an*  avoid  footure  criticism/ 

"Cotton wood  is  more  or  less  conscience  stricken  over 
Enright's  words,  an'  promises  to  mend  his  ways.  An'  to 
show  his  feelin's  has  been  reely  touched,  an*  he's  tryin' 
to  improve,  he  takes  the  saddle  off  his  pony  an*  goes  on 
foot  for  mebby  it's  three  days.  He's  so  plumb  quiet,  too, 
that  general  confidence  is  restored  in  him  to  sech  a  degree 
that  Cherokee  Hall,  who's  yeretofore  barred  him  at 
farobank  as  too  young  an*  voylent,  considers  reemovin' 
those  disabilities  an'  permittin'  him  to  buck  the  game 
onchecked.  It's  among  things  shore  that,  if  Cotton- 
wood  had  persisted  in  his  quietoods,  he'd  stood  pub 
licly  out  of  sight  inside  another  week. 

"Boggs  even  says  to  Texas  Thompson,  'It's  amazin' 
how  that  Cottonwood  boy  has  improved  since  Sam 
advises  with  him.  It  certainly  does  knock  his  horns 
off,  an'  no  mistake.' 

"Which  I  figger,'  returns  Texas,  who's  more  judg 
matical  than  Boggs,  'that  the  changes  you  rejoices  over 
is  the  froote  rather  of  fear  than  of  any  resolootion  to  lead 
a  happier  an'  a  better  life.  Old  Sam  Enright's  got  a 
mighty  piercin'  eye,  an'  thar's  a  gray  gleam  in  it  like  the 
shine  of  a  new  bowie.  It's  calk'lated  to  send  a  thrill 
of  apprehension  through  a  wrong-doer,  like  the  grace  of 
heaven  through  a  campmeetin',  an'  nacherally  it  daunts 

173 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Cottonwood  a  whole  lot.  I'm  yere  to  say  I  never  does 
meet  up  with  any  party  possessin'  sech  commandin' 
eyes,  except  my  former  Laredo  wife.  As  for  that  lady,  a 
glance  of  reproof  from  her  was  like  bein*  struck  by 
lightnin'. 

"'All  the  same/  returns  Boggs,  'I  feels  more  lib'ral 
than  you  about  Cottonwood.  It's  my  belief  his  reform 
is  sincere.' 

"'Well/  breaks  in  Tutt  who's  listenin',  'while  I'll  be 
proud  to  lose,  I  don't  mind  bettin*  you  a  stack  of  reds, 
Dan,  that  this  Cottonwood  coyote  cuts  loose  ag'in  inside 
of  no  time/ 

"'Cuts  loose?'  repeats  Boggs.     'To  what  extremes?' 

'"I'll  gamble  you-all  he  gets  that  egreegious  the  strang- 
lers  comes  together/  says  Tutt. 

"It's  a  go/  says  Boggs;  'although  I'm  driven  to  ree- 
mark,  Dave,  that  your  tastes  for  specyoolation  has  most 
likely  betrayed  you  into  the  hole.  This  Cottonwood 
boy'll  be  as  tame  as  tabby  cats/ 

"It's  the  next  day,  while  Cottonwood  is  loafin'  about, 
solemn  an'  seedate,  that  Old  Monte  swings  in  with  the 
stage.  He  fetches  with  him  two  tenderfeet. 

"An'  they  ain't  got  a  thing  but  money!'  says  Old 
Monte,  as  he  pitches  the  letter  bags  to  the  postmaster, 
an'  tumbles  into  the  street.  'I  couldn't  quite  get 
onto  their  game,  but  the  barkeep  in  Oriental  jest 
before  I  pulls  out  of  Tucson,  asshores  me  they're  yere 
to  invest/ 

"The  strangers  pitches  camp  at  the  O.  K.  Restauraw, 
an'  after  Enright  gets  out  of  Old  Monte  all  he's  able  to 

174 


COTTONWOOD  WASSON 

commoonicate — which  is  plenty  scanty,  for  the  amount 
that  old  sot  can't  find  out  onder  the  most  fav'rable  cir 
cumstances  is  plumb  surprisin' — he  an*  Doc  Peets  goes 
squanderin'  over.  These  yere  demonstrations  gets 
pop'lar  anticipation  all  keyed  up. 

"'Thar  you  see  the  two  wisest  sharps  this  side  of  the 
Missouri!'  exclaims  Dave  Tutt,  lookin'  after  Enright  an* 
Peets.  'If  they  can't  convince  them  millionaires  of 
Arizona's  footure,  then  it  don't  lay  in  the  deck.' 

"'The  same  bein'  my  belief  complete,'  says  Boggs, 
who's  celebratin'  the  advent  of  the  tenderfeet  out  of  a 
bottle.  'You  bet  Enright  an'  Peets'll  rope  an'  hawg-tie 
these  yere  capitalists,  an'  have  'em  all  spread  out  for 
brandin'  too  easy.' 

"'While  we're  hankerin'  round  the  Red  Light,  talkin' 
it  over,  Enright  comes  back.  I  never  sees  him  more 
pleased. 

"'Gents.'  he  says,  takin'the  bottle  from  Boggs,  'them 
strangers  is  shore  auriferous.  They  ain't  made  up  their 
minds  what  avenoos  of  trade  they'll  tread,  but  their  fixed 
impression  is  they'll  stay.' 

'"How  strong  be  they?'  asks  Tutt.  'How  big  a 
bankroll  do  you  reckon  now  they've  got?' 

'"Which  of  course,'  says  Enright,  'I  don't  put  the 
question  none  direct,  havin'  too  much  tact,  but  they  talks 
of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  like  Dan  does  of  a  round 
of  drinks.  I  regyards  their  presence  as  eepock  makin'. 
Peets  is  with  'em;  an'  if  they  has  idees  he'll  expand 'em, 
an'  if  they  has  doubts  he'll  bed  'em  down.' 

"' Shore  I'  says  Boggs,  mighty  confident;  '  Peets'll  have 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

them  investors  walkin'  Spanish  too  quick.  I  looks  on 
the  play  as  cinched.' 

"'Speakin'  general/  returns  Enright,  'I  must  say  I 
shares  Dan's  confidence.  Still,  thar's  a  chance.  Like 
most  sports  from  the  East,  oninyoored  to  Arizona  ways, 
they're  timid.  They  asks  me  partic'ler  whether  law  is 
respected,  an'  do  we  set  a  valyoo  on  human  life.  It 
wouldn't  do  to  startle  'em  on  them  p'ints.' 

"'Valyoo  hooman  life!'  exclaims  Texas  Thompson, 
some  indignant.  'Whatever  is  them  mavericks  talkin' 
about?  Ain't  we  got  a  vig'lance  committee?  Don't 
every  gent  pack  a  gun?  With  sech  evidences  like  an 
open  book  before  'em,  don't  it  look  like  we  valyoos 
hooman  life?' 

"'An'  as  for  respectin'  the  law,'  adds  Boggs;  'it's  a 
pity  Curly  Bill,  or  some  other  party  on  whom  the  game 
law's  out,  couldn't  wander  into  camp  right  now.  A 
joodicious  lynchin'  would  be  the  convincin'  caper!  It 
would  shore  show  'em  whether  we  respects  the  law  or 
not.' " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TOP    AND    BOTTOM 

ENRIGHT  suggests  to  Tutt  that  if  Tucson  Jennie 
p'rades   the  street   leadin'  little  Enright  Peets 
Tutt,  it  would  give  the  camp  a  quiet  domestic 
look. 

"'The  sight  of  sech  a  child  as  Enright  Peets/  he  says, 
'couldn't  fail  to  nootralize  any  roughness;  that  done  I'd 
look  on  victory  as  secure.  Also  some  gent  ought  to  prance 
over,  an'  pass  the  word  to  Missis  Rucker  not  to  tyrranize 
over  pore  Rucker  too  open  in  the  presence  of  our  visitors. 
But  on  second  thought  it  would  hurt  her  feelin's  an'  lead 
to  onpleasant  sequels;  so  mebby  it's  as  well  to  pass  it  up.' 
"It's  yere  Doc  Peets  comes  weavin'  in,  smilin'  wide  an* 
complacent.  'It's  all  right,  Sam,'  says  Peets,  addressin' 
Enright;  'I  left  'em  gettin'  ready  for  chuck.  It  don't  do 
to  talk  to  'em  too  much  at  the  jump;  they  might  think 
the  camp  has  designs.' 

"'Right  you  be,  Doc,'  breaks  in  Texas.  'Capital 
ists  that  a-way  is  like  antelopes;  the  way  to  hunt  'em  is 
to  sit  still.' 

"An*  Missis  Rucker?'  urges  Enright,  sort  o'  anxious. 

1 '  Which  May  mornin's  is  harsh  to  her,'  returns  Peets. 

'She's  got  Rucker  out  in  the  kitchen,  slicin'  salt-boss  an' 

openin'  air-tights,  an'  is  preparin'  to  deal  them  guests 

the  gastronimic  game  of  the  year.     Also  her  attitoode 

177 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

towards  Rucker  is  one  of  peace  an'  gentleness;  they're 
gettin'  along  as  congenial  as  so  much  milk  an'  honey.' 

"Enright  heaves  a  sigh,  lights  a  seegyar,  an'  leans 
back  like  one  who  sees  triumph  on  its  windin'  way.  He 
beams  round  on  the  boys,  an'  says: 

"'Bein'  no  one  to  count  my  chickens  prematoor,  I've 
reef  rained  from  any  prophetic  bluffs.  But  after  hearin' 
from  the  Doc,  I'm  yere  to  say  we've  got  the  sityooation 
treed  an'  out  on  a  limb.  These  cap'talists  is  ours.' 

"It's  now,  when  hope  is  highest,  thar  comes  a  yell  that 
sounds  like  an  Injun  outbreak,  an'  a  pony  goes  flashin' 
up  the  street  as  though  he's  shot  out  of  a  gun.  Every 
gent  looks  up,  Enright  some  disturbed. 

"'Now  what  onmuzzled  Siwash  is  that?'  he  asks,  an' 
his  tones  is  plenty  ferocious.  'Who  is  it  goes  promotin' 
uproar  at  a  crisis  like  this?' 

"'It's  that  exasperatin'  Cottonwood,'  replies  Boggs. 
'He's  loose  ag'in,  an'  organizin'  to  stand  the  town  on  its 
head.' 

"Jack,'  says  Enright,  wheelin'  short  an'  fierce  on 
Jack  Moore,  'go  bend  a  gun  over  his  locoed  pate. 
He'll  throw  down  all  our  plans!' 

"Before  Jack  can  get  to  Cottonwood,  the  worst 
possible  occurs.  The  two  cap'talists,  on  hearin'  the 
whoops,  nacherally  comes  to  the  O.  K.  door  to  see  what's 
up.  One  of  'em,  who's  got  on  a  plug  hat,  is  speshul  in 
terested.  As  Cottonwood  sails  by,  w'irlin'  his  six-shooter 
on  his  finger,  the  plug  hat  stranger  seems  to  go  into  a 
trance  of  admiration,  perceivin'  which  Cottonwood  yanks 
his  pony  up  short,  an'  surveys  him  plenty  disdainful. 

178 


TOP  AND  BOTTOM 

"'Whoever  licensed  you  to  wear  sech  a  warbonnet  as 
that?'  demands  Cottonwood,  dictatin'  at  the  plug  hat 
with  his  gun.  ' Don't  you-all  know  it's  ag'in  the  rooles 
of  our  set  ? ' 

"'Whatever  be  you  talkin'  about!'  exclaims  the  plug 
hat  party,  plumb  took  aback. 

"'Do  you-all  reckon,'  goes  on  Cottonwood,  disre- 
gyardin'  the  question,  'that  we're  sech  prairie  dogs  as  to 
let  a  schemin'  shorthorn  go  onderminin'  us  with  his  de- 
boshed  plug  hat?  If  so,  why  was  Bunker  Hill  an' 
wharfore  Yorktown  ?  Unless  I  nips  this  plug  hat  move 
ment  in  the  bud,  you'll  be  playin'  a  w'ite  shirt  on  us 
next/ 

"Before  the  astonished  tenderfoot  can  say  a  word, 
Cottonwood  whips  off  the  plug  hat  an*  claps  it  on  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun.  This  done,  he  begins  shakin'  the 
loads  out  of  his  weepon  same  as  if  it's  a  bunch  of  crackers. 
He  shorely  does  make  a  colander  of  that  headgear!  Jest 
as  he's  fetched  loose  the  last  shot,  Jack  Moore  snatches 
him  from  the  saddle  like  he's  a  sack  of  flour. 

"Whatever's  the  row  now?'  demands  Cottonwood. 
'  Do  the  ordinances  of  this  yere  puerile  outfit  extend  to  the 
protection  of  plug  hats?  If  they  do,  I  quit  you  right 
now.' 

c '  You'd  better  keep  your  feelin's  hobbled/  says  Jack, 
'ontil  you  see  Old  Man  Enright.  An',  as  for  quittin' 
Wolfville,  the  chances  are  that,  when  he  gets  done  with 
you,  you'll  deecide  to  stay  yere  till  the  final  trump.' 

"  Which  I  never  did  see  two  tenderfeet  so  yoonanimous 
for  goin'  back  before!  In  no  time  after  Cottonwood 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

ventilates  that  plug  hat,  they're  orderin'  speshul  buck- 
boards  from  the  corral,  an'  gettin'  packed  to  pull  their 
freight.  They  allows  they've  been  imposed  on  by  the 
barkeep  at  the  Oriental  over  in  Tucson,  he  havin'  de 
scribed  Wolfville  as  bein'  as  quiet  as  a  church. 

"He  sends  us  like  lambs  to  the  slaughter!'  they  says; 
'  an',  once  we're  back,  we'll  onf url  to  him  our  views  con- 
cernin'  the  lies  he  tells.' 

"Shore!  Enright  talks,  an'  Peets  talks;  but  what's 
the  use?  They  tries  to  make  these  yere  visitors  see 
things  in  their  troo  light,  an'  that  it's  only  Cottonwood's 
way  of  bein'  sociable.  They  even  offers  to  hang  Cotton- 
wood,  if  the  ceremony  will  promote  a  better  onderstandin'. 
It's  of  no  avail;  after  that  gun  play  any  gent  who  says 
'  Wolfville'  to  them  cap'talists  is  barkin'  at  a  knot.  They 
simply  won't  have  it!  An'  so,  when  the  buckboard 
is  ready,  they  goes  tearin'  off  to  the  north,  a  hand 
kerchief  over  the  plug-hat  party's  skelp,  the  plug  hat 
in  his  lap.  He  allows  he'll  take  it  East,  to  show  what 
Arizona  really  is. 

"I  reckon,  Tutt/  says  Boggs  a  heap  moody,  'I 
owes  you  a  red  stack.  I'll  consider  the  money  well  in 
vested  if  it  results  in  my  seein'  that  miserable  Cotton- 
wood's  moccasins  ten  feet  in  the  air.' 

"Enright  calls  the  committee  together  in  the  New 
York  Store,  though  he  states  that  the  session  is  informal. 

"It's  only  intended  to  consider,'  says  he,  'in  what 
manner  we  can  best  get  this  Cottonwood  killed,  with 
least  disgrace  to  ourselves.' 

"Whatever   have   I   done?'   demands    Cottonwood, 
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TOP  AND  BOTTOM 

some  querulous,  as  Jack  Moore  brings  him  before 
Enright  an*  the  rest  of  us  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck. 
'  Whatever  have  I  done  now  ? ' 

"'What  have  you-all  done?'  repeats  Enright,  between 
rage  an'  disgust.  'You  aims  a  blow  at  our  prospects. 
Which  you  shows  yourse'f  a  menace.  An'  you  with 
half  your  milk-teeth  yet!  It's  astonishin'!  Cotton  wood, 
if  you  was  at  years  of  discretion,  thar  wouldn't  have 
been  no  pesterin'  round  with  committee  meetings.  I'd 
have  had  Dan,  or  Texas,  or  Jack  yere,  s'anter  to  the 
door  with  a  Winchester,  an'  solve  the  trouble  by  shootin' 
you  all  up.  Now  answer  me:  What  made  you  go 
swoopin'  at  that  cap'talist  ? ' 

"'Cap'talist!'  says  Cotton  wood.  'However  do  I 
savey  he's  a  cap'talist  ?  "  Yere's  a  short  horn,"  thinks  I, 
"an'  the  camp  plumb  dead!  I'll  about  jump  in,  liven 
things  up  a  whole  lot,  an'  give  him  a  good  impression." 
That's  why  I  throws  myse'f  loose  like  I  do.' 

"An'  do  you  allow,'  returns  Enright,  savage  an' 
sarkastic, '  that  to  burn  up  the  causeway  with  your  pony, 
make  a  pinwheel  of  your  six-shooter,  an'  finish  off  by 
shootin'  a  gent's  only  hat  full  of  holes,  is  doo  to  make  a 
good  impression  ?  Is  that  your  idee  of  invitin'  the  con 
fidence  of  a  stranger?' 

"After  waitin'  a  while,  an'  Cotton  wood  makin'  no 
reply,  Enright  goes  on. 

' '  I  can't  get  over  the  notion  that  you're  more  eediotic 
than  crim'nal.  An'  yet  that  don't  let  us  in  or  out,  but 
leaves  us  sort  o'  straddle  of  a  log.  Which  I  confesses, 
not  without  shame,  that  I'm  nonplussed.  Yere  you  go 

181 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

stampedin'  them  capitalists — said  conduct  bein'  a  bet 
which  no  se'f-respectin'  commoonity  can  overlook!  An' 
yet  thar's  no  jail  to  put  you  in!  Besides,  in  that  school 
of  joorisproodence  wharin  I  was  reared,  it's  allers  been 
held  that  when  you've  got  a  paTty  you  ought  to  lock  up, 
you've  got  one  you  ought  to  kill.  Cottonwood,  I  can't 
see  nothin'  for  it  but  hang.  Troo,  you  ain't  bumped  off 
no  one;  but,  as  reads  the  Constitootion,  we're  jestified 
in  sending  you  over  the  divide  onder  the  gen'ral  welfare 
clause  of  that  instrooment.  That's  my  view;  what  do 
you  say,  Doc?' 

"'Which  I'm  lost  in  the  same  neck  of  woods  with 
yourse'f  /  says  Peets.  '  I  asks  myse'f  what  else  is  thar  to 
do?' 

"Enright  beats  on  the  table,  an'  looks  about.  'Has 
any  gent  a  su'gestion  ? '  he  asks.  Thar  bein'  no  response, 
he  turns  again  to  Cottonwood,  who  stands  round-eyed 
an'  amazed  like  a  young  ground  owl.  'Have  you  any 
thing  to  offer  before  an  outraged  public  uses  you  whar- 
with  to  dec'rate  the  wind-mill  ?  As  I  states,  we  regrets 
this  finish,  but  you  forced  our  hands  yourse'f.  As  for 
me,  personal,  I've  stood  between  you  an'  pop'lar  clamor 
all  I  will.  If  you've  anything  to  say,  speak  out;  an' 
while  he's  talkin',  Jack,  you  might  as  well  go  for  a  lariat.' 

"The  locoed  Cottonwood  begins  to  take  an  interest. 
'  See  yere,'  he  says,  an'  his  manner  is  a  heap  plausible  an' 
wheedlin'.  'You-all  gents  don't  want  to  hang  me. 
An',  between  us,  thar's  reasons  private  to  me  personal 
why  I  don't  want  to  be  hanged  none.  At  least  you-all 
ought  to  give  a  gent  a  show-down.  I'll  tell  you  what: 

182 


TOP  AND  BOTTOM 

I'll  nacherally  cut  the  kyards  to  see  whether  I  hang  or  go 
free  ?  Or,  if  you  objects  to  kyards,  I'll  throw  the  dice — 
first  flash  out  of  the  box?' 

"Enright,  doorin'  these  proffers,  is  regyardin'  Cotton- 
wood  doobious  an'  oncertain,  like  he  can't  make  up  his 
mind. 

"'  Or  say/  goes  on  Cotton  wood;  'I'll  take  a  chance  on 
this?  You  throw  three  dice;  an'  I'll  agree  to  tell  you, 
before  you  roll  'em,  what  number  you'll  throw,  addin' 
spots  on  top  to  spots  on  the  bottom.  If  I  fail  I  hang.' 

"Enright  at  this  looks  at  Cottonwood  commiseratin'ly; 
then  he  speaks  low  to  Peets.  'This  boy  is  out  of  his 
head,  Doc,'  he  says.  'The  fright  has  onsettled  his  in 
tellects.' 

"I'm  not  so  shore,'  says  Peets.  'Which  I'm  afraid, 
I  don't  share  your  belief  in  him  bein'  upset  mental. 
I  figger  he's  got  an  ace  buried.  Still,  since  I'm  mighty 
averse  to  stringin'  up  a  yearlin',  partic'lar  when  no  life 
has  been  took,  I  shorely  trusts  he  has.  My  su'gestion 
is  to  call  his  bluff.' 

"'Do  I  onderstand,'  says  Enright,  ag'in  addressin' the 
guileful  Cottonwood,  'that  I'm  to  throw  three  dice;  an* 
that  you  agrees  to  say  before  the  throw,  jest  what  the 
spots  on  top  plus  the  spots  next  the  table  will  count  up  ? ' 
"Preezackly/  returns  Cottonwood,  beginnin'  to  cheer 
up.  'If  I  fall  down,  it's  a  case  of  bring  on  the  rope  an* 
lead  the  march  to  the  windmill.  Failin'  of  a  shore  thing 
like  this,  I  shore  ought  to  have  no  further  care  to  live.' 

"'Pore  boy!'  sighs  Enright.  Then,  turnin'  to  Boggs: 
'Dan,  go  over  to  the  Red  Light,  an'  fetch  the  dice.' 

183 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Enright  shakes  the  three  dice,  while  Jack  Moore, 
who's  got  back  from  the  corral,  takes  his  stand  at  Cotton- 
wood's  elbow,  the  lariat  over  his  arm.  Enright  raises 
his  hand,  makin'  ready  to  throw.  At  that,  Cottonwood 
shets  his  foxy  eyes,  pretendin'  to  think. 

"'Which,  top  plus  bottom/  he  says,  'you'll  throw 
twenty-one.' 

"Enright  sends  the  dice  rattlin'  along  the  table,  while 
we-all  crowds  about.  The  dice  show  'six-two-four' — 
twelve  in  all.  We  turns  'em  over  one  by  one,  an'  the 
bottoms  shows  'one-five-three',  bein'  nine. 

"'Thar  you  be!'  cries  Cottonwood,  some  exultant; 
'twelve  on  top  an'  nine  on  the  bottom,  the  same  bein' 
twenty-one.  I  win.' 

"'You  win,'  says  Enright,  an'  he  says  it  like  a  load  is 
off  his  mind.  Then  he  raises  his  hand,  mighty  impres 
sive.  'One  word  Cottonwood,  an'  Wolfville  is  through 
with  you,  onless  by  some  renooed  breaks  you  reopens  the 
game.  By  first  drink  time  to-morry,  you  line  out  for 
Tucson.  An'  don't  you  come  projectin'  round  this 
outfit  no  more,  onless  we  gives  you  speshul  leave.  Which 
I'd  run  you  out  this  evenin',  only  I'm  afraid  you'd  track 
up  on  them  fleein'  short-horns,  an'  reecommence  your 
outrages.' 

"Cottonwood  moves  for  the  door  without  a  word,  for 
he's  no  sech  fool  as  to  go  tamperin'  with  his  luck  by  givin' 
vent  to  ontimely  or  ill-considered  oratory.  He's  got  the 
sense  to  let  well  enough  alone,  an'  don't  aim  to  go  talkin' 
himse'f  into  new  or  deeper  holes.  When  he's  gone, 
Enright  looks  at  Peets  a  heap  puzzled,  an'  asks: 

184 


TOP  AND  BOTTOM 

"'However  do  you  reckon  he  does  it,  Doc?' 

"Peets  waves  his  hand  like  the  play  baffles  him  entire, 
an*  appeals  to  Cherokee  Hall,  who's  been  watchin'  them 
final  proceedings  with  a  half  grin  in  the  corners  of  his 
mouth,  like  he's  amused. 

"'What  is  it,  Cherokee,  that  boy  does  to  us?'  asks 
Peets.  'He's  had  us  ag'inst  some  deadfall  or  other,  but 
what  is  it?' 

"'Why,'  returns  Cherokee,  pickin'  up  the  dice,  'it's 
as  obvious  as  old  John  Chisholm's  Fence-Rail  brand. 
That  Cottonwood  simply  hands  you  the  old  snap  of 
Top-an'-Bottom  in  a  new  guise.  An'  I  must  concede 
that  you  falls  for  it  like  a  bevy  of  farmers.' 

" '  Explain,'  says  Enright,  who's  sheepish  to  be  took  in 
by  a  child.  '  You  says  "Top-an'-Bottom ; "  but  you  don't 
eloocidate.  Yere  I  am  with  three  dice  in  my  hand,  an' 
Cottonwood  says  "twenty-one."  I  throws;  an'  it  is 
twenty-one.  Now  however  does  he  know  ? ' 

"How  does  he  know?'  repeats  Cherokee,  in  smilin' 
tol'ration  of  Enright's  ignorance.  'He  knows,  because 
it  can't  come  anything  else.  If  you  was  to  throw  these 
yere  dice  a  thousand  times,  it  would  every  trip  come 
twenty-one.  See  yere!'  an'  Cherokee  takes  one  of  the 
dice  between  thumb  an'  finger.  'When  dice  is  made, 
they  puts  the  six  opposite  the  ace,  the  doose  opposite  the 
five,  the  four  opposite  the  trey.  No  matter  how  they 
roll  or  what  comes  up,  the  top  an'  bottom  of  each  counts 
seven.  Savey  ?  Which  bein'  troo,  throwin'  three  dice 
that  a-way,  the  tops  an'  bottoms  make  three  sevens — 
twenty-one.' 

13  185 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"In  Enright's  face  chagrin  an*  knowledge  is  makin'  an 
even  struggle  of  it.  After  a  bit  he  says,  'You've  re 
counted,  Cherokee,  certain  dice  pecooliarities  which 
hitherto  evades  my  notice,  me  bein'  otherwise  engaged. 
It  all  shows  the  wisdom  of  possessin'  a  professional  kyard 
sharp,  as  a  yoonit  of  the  body  politic.  Still/  he  goes  on, 
some  reproachful,  'when  you  sees  him  settin'  this  trap, 
why  don't  you  give  us  warnin'  ? ' 

"'Which  I  would/  returns  Cherokee,  'if  the  stakes  is 
of  real  valyoo.  But  thar  you  be,  only  playin'  for  the 
life  of  that  Cottonwood,  an'  I  sees  no  call.' 

"'To  think,  Doc/  says  Enright,  kind  o'  pensive,  as 
we-all  go  wanderin'  back  to  the  Red  Light — 'to  think 
of  me  bein'  let  in  by  a  babe  in  arms!  An'  yet  I  foretells 
a  brilliant  c'reer  for  Cottonwood.  That  boy  ought  to 
be  in  Congress  right  now!  Bar-keep' — makin'  a  sign  to 
Black  Jack — 'the  reestoratives  is  on  me.'" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TEXAS    RECEIVES   A    LETTER 

THIS  yere"  observed  the  old  gentleman  one  even 
ing  when  the  talk  had  wandered  to  the  rival 
town  of  Red  Dog — "this  yere  I  has  in  mind, 
is  an  occasion  when  Red  Dog,  as  a  yoonit,  scornin'  the 
narrow  sperit  of  commoonal  rivalry,  triumphin'  over 
prejewdices  still  more  narrow,  flocks  at  the  call  of  hoo- 
manity  to  the  Wolfville  rescoo.  Which  it's  one  of  them 
grand  eepisodes  that  redeems  a  gent's  dwindlin'  faith  in 
his  kind,  an'  teaches  him,  with  that  wise  old  longhorn 
who  writ  the  dramys,  how  a  tech  of  nacher  makes  the 
whole  world  kin.  To  be  shore,  as  the  final  kyards 
comes  slippin'  from  the  box,  we  never  does  need  Red 
Dog's  aid  at  all ; — none  whatever !  But  that  mustn't  serve 
to  shift  the  play.  Red  Dog  takes  her  p'sition,  what  Doc 
Peets  calls  honey  fides,  an'  you-all  can  gamble  your  guns, 
an'  throw  in  belt  an'  cartridges  for  lanniyap,  Wolfville 
yields  that  hamlet  grateful  credit. 

"The  beginnin'  is  one  evenin',  when  a  passel  of  us  is 
hibernatin'  about  the  Red  Light,  playin'  a  little  bank 
ag'in  Cherokee,  more  as  a  excoose  for  livin*  than  from 
any  lust  of  gain.  While  we're  thus  dawdlin'  along,  Peets 
drifts  up  from  the  post-office,  with  a  letter  for  Texas 
Thompson. 

187 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'Looks  like  some  lady's  openin'  a  correspondence 
with  you,  Texas/  he  says,  tossin'  the  missive  on  the  lay 
out. 

"Thar  it  is,  plain  as  paint,  in  fine  h'ar-line  writing 
'John  Thompson,  Esq.,  Wolfville,  Arizona.'  Right 
yere  let  me  cut  in  with  the  p'inter  that,  while  Texas  is 
'Texas'  to  us,  his  legitimate  brand  is  'John.' 

"When  the  letter  hits  the  cloth,  Texas  draws  back 
same  as  if  it's  a  rattlesnake.  Thar  befalls  a  silence, 
doorin'  which  Cherokee  turns  his  box  up,  showin'  play 
for  the  nonce  has  ceased. 

"At  last,  Texas  gets  his  voice:  'It's  shore  she- 
writin'!'  says  he,  kind  o'  gulpin'.  'Gents,  I  saveys 
by  the  feelin'  that  I'm  up  ag'inst  the  awful!  It's  as 
though  that  envelope  harbors  a  trant'ler!  You  open 
her,  Doc/  he  concloodes,  appealin'  to  Peets. 

"While  we-all  sets  back  in  suspense,  Peets  t'ars  the 
letter  open,  an'  reads  as  follows  as  near  as  I  recalls: 

'Dallas,  Joone  6. 
'  Deer  husband : 

'  How  can  you  be  so  crooel  ?  Thar's 
no  use  of  you  longer  hidin'  out;  I  gets  your  present 
wharabouts  straight,  from  a  sure  source  who  sees  you 
face  to  face.  Oh,  that  it  should  be  granted  a  miscreent 
sech  as  you  to  break  a  heart  like  mine!  Onless  I  hears 
from  you  in  a  fortnight  after  you  receives  this  com- 
moonication,  I'll  shore  come  where  you  be  in  person. 
'  From  your  illyoosed  but  devoted  wife 

'  J.  Thompson.' 

"While  Peets  is  readin',  Texas  sets  thar  never  battin' 
a  eye  nor  waggin'  a  y'ear.  He  don't  speak  for  more'n 

188 


TEXAS  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 

a  minute;  it's  as  if  he's  thunder-struck.  At  last  he 
begins  whisperin'  to  himself. 

"'Illyoosed  wife!  J.  Thompson!'  he  says.  'An*  my 
old  time  wife's  name  is  Jane!' 

"Cherokee  picks  up  the  letter.  Then,  tryin'  to  hand 
Texas  some  encouragement,  he  remarks: 

"'This  yere's  spoorious!  It's  from  Dallas;  Texas's 
former  wife  has  her  home-camp  in  Laredo/ 

"'Not  necessar'ly,'  returns  Texas,  his  voice  thick  an' 
husky,  an'  him  makin'  a  motion  with  his  hand  same  as 
if  he's  wavin'  aside  false  hopes;  'not  necessar'ly,  Cherokee. 
It'ud  be  about  her  style  to  go  troopin'  off  to  Dallas,  that 
a- way,  as  more  fashionable.' 

"'Which  I  don't  see  no  room  for  argyooment,'  breaks 
in  Enright.  'Thar's  the  hand-writ,  Texas.  Cast  your 
optics  onto  it,  an'  see  if  it's  genyooine.  You  shorely 
knows  the  lady's  signachoor. 

" '  Which  I  wouldn't  bet  a  chip  on  me  knowin'  nothin'! ' 
exclaims  Texas,  his  feachoors  workin'  desp'rate.  'Me 
an'  she  never  carries  on  no  voloom'nous  correspondence; 
an'  I  couldn't  tell  her  handwritin'  from  quail  tracks. 
But  thar's  a  sensation  yere,  gents' — an'  Texas  thumps 
his  breast — 'like  a  icicle  through  my  heart,  which  tells 
me  said  missive's  on  the  level.' 

"But  I  don't  savey!'  returns  Enright,  waxin'  argyoo- 
mentative.  'You  regales  us  freequent  with  alloosions 
to  a  divorce.  This  yere  correspondent  incrim'nates 
you  as  her  lawful  husband?' 

"Jest  the  same,'  protests  Texas,  'she  gets  that  divorce 
all  right,  an'  is  reestored  to  her  maiden  name  an'  all  my 

189 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

cattle.  She  auctions  off  the  bovines,  an'  wins  out  sev- 
'ral  bags  of  doubloons  onder  the  pretext  of  alimony. 
I  ain't  on  to  this  present  racket  more'n  you  be,  Sam; 
but  it's  obv'ous  she's  got  some  new  trick  up  her  sleeve.' 

"'Mebby',  says  Boggs,  'this  yere  lady's  gone  broke 
ag'in  feathers  an'  furbelows,  an'  she's  out  to  bushwhack 
round  an'  extort  more  riches  from  Texas.' 

"'I  trusts  it  ain't  no  worse,'  groans  Texas.  'Still, 
it'ud  be  more  her  size,  on  findin'  me  free  an'  havin'  a 
good  time,  to  rope  me  up  an'  drag  me  back  into  them 
marital  bonds.'  Then,  castin'  a  implorin'  glance  at 
Enright,  'You'll  stand  by  me,  Sam — you  an'  the  boys? 
You  won't  let  me  be  took  without  a  effort?' 

"'If  it  was  ag'in  men,  yes,'  returns  Enright,  whose 
sympathies  is  all  worked  up;  'an'  though  they  comes  a 
armed  host!  But  however,  Texas,  be  we  goin'  to  shield 
you  from  a  lady?  Which  the  mere  thought  leaves  me 
weak  as  water!' 

"'That  settles  it!'  says  Texas,  whose  cheek  while 
Enright  talks  turns  pale  as  paper;  'thar's  no  hope, 
then!  Gents,  I  forgives  both  my  friends  an'  my  enemies, 
an'  accepts  all  blame  to  myse'f.  Moreover,  I  has  my 
refooge.  Sooicide  is  still  within  my  reach,  an'  no  sport 
who  owns  a  Colt's-45  can  be  regyarded  as  without  a 
friend.  In  matrimony,  as  in  fightin'  Injuns,  the  word 
should  ever  be:  "Save  your  last  shot  for  yourse'f." 

"'Texas,  Peets  breaks  forth,  plumb  enraged,  'you 
talks  like  a  prattlin'  child!  Let's  meet  this  involvement 
clean-strain!  Why  not  face  that  sooperfluous  spouse, 
an'  remind  her  you're  a  free,  divorced,  American  citizen  ? ' 

190 


TEXAS  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 

'"Doc/  replies  Texas,  impatient  an*  queryoolous, 
'sech  bluffs  is  puerile.  You  ain't  got  no  conception  of 
this  lady.  If  she  decides  to  reclaim  me,  that  Laredo 
divorce  won't  hold  her  more'n  a  cobweb  would  a  cow. 
You  knows  Abilene's  wife?' — Peets  begins  to  twitch 
some  about  the  mouth,  an*  look  faded  an'  oneasy — 
'Abilene's  wife  is  cup-custard  an'  charlotte  roose  to  this 
yere  one-time  he'pmeet  of  mine!' 

"Enright  sighs.  'Doc,'  he  says,  shakin'  his  gray 
sagacious  head,  'this  'llustrates  what  I  tells  you  t'other 
evenin'.  We're  too  much  civilized.  The  male  of  our 
species  lapses  into  a  handless  slave,  oncap'ble  of  his  own 
domestic  defence,  when  he  eelim'nates  the  club  from  his 
household  economy.  Since  then  he's  been  plumb  power 
less  to  preeserve  the  fam'ly  peace.' 

"'None  the  less,'  retorts  Peets,  'it  befits  us,  as  sports 
of  sperit,  to  consider  means  for  Texas's  succor.  I 
for  one  shall  not  surrender  him  without  a  struggle.  This 
yere's  no  child's  play  an'  I  fears  we're  up  ag'inst  the 
prop'sition  of  our  c'rreers;  for  all  that  we  mustn't 
weaken.' 

"By  this,  havin'  recovered  some  from  the  first  nerve- 
stampede  indooced  by  Texas'  peril,  we-all  falls  to  a  dis 
cussion  of  what's  best  to  be  done.  At  the  outset,  Texas 
raises  his  shakin'  hand  to  be  heard. 

"'Gents,'  says  he,  'let  me  onbosom  myse'f  on  one 
more  p'int.  You  may  deem  me  reecreant;  but,  onder 
no  circumstances,  will  I  meet  this  lady  in  j'int  debate,  or 
submit  to  be  drug  into  her  presence  personal.  With  this 
single  hold-out,  you-alls  is  free  to  go  ransackin*  about  in 

191 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

my  destinies  with  the  bridle  off,  workin'  your  friendly  an* 
enfettered  wills/ 

"Thar's  a  heap  of  talk.  One  after  the  other,  Enright 
an*  Peets  an'  Boggs  an'  Cherokee  an'  Tutt  an'  Jack 
Moore  and  the  rest  gets  down  their  verbal  stacks.  At 
the  finish,  Peets  sums  up  results. 

"'It  seems  the  consensus,'  says  he,  'that  mendacity's 
to  be  our  buckler,  concealment  our  single  hope,  an' 
Texas  yere  has  got  to  go  into  hidin'.  Which  concloosion 
bein'  arrived  at,  the  next  an'  nacheral  query  is,  Wherever 
is  he  to  hide  at?  Wolfville  won't  do,  bein'  much  too 
obv'ous.  Moreover,  accordin'  to  Texas  she's  equal  to 
puttin'  a  torch  to  the  camp,  an'  burnin'  it  to  the  ground. 
I  tharfore  submits  Tucson,  as  a  place  of  temp'rary 
retirement  for  our  hunted  comrade.' 

"'Which  Tucson  won't  do  neither,'  observes  Enright. 
'If  Texas  goes  to  lurkin'  about  that  closely  gyarded 
meetropolis  surreptitious,  an'  nothin'  to  explain  them 
f urtivities,  they'd  jest  about  rope  him  up  for  a  hoss-thief, 
or  mebby  allow  he's  organizin'  to  turn  off  the  National 
Bank.  Gents,  the  thought  is  barbed,  but  for  myse'f 
I  sees  nothin'  for  it  except  Red  Dog.  They're  our  en 
emies;  but  likewise  in  their  loocid  intervals,  they're  hoo- 
man  bein's.  If  the  naked  horrors  of  this  yere  sityooa- 
tion  is  laid  b'ar  to  'em,  they're  bound — an'  retain  the 
name  of  white  men — to  offer  Texas  a  asylum.' 

'"But,  Sam,'  says  Peets,  'Texas,  as  you  seems  to  ree- 
'lize,  can't  go  burro  win'  in  among  them  Red  Dog  folks 
without  no  prior  word.  Now  whoever's  goin'  to  chip 
in  that  word?' 

192 


TEXAS  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 

i 

"That's  a  dooty  up  to  you'  an'  me,  Doc/  returns 
Enright.  'We  must  bring  over  the  Red  Dog  chief  for 
a  powwow  heart  to  heart/ 

"While  Wolfville  an*  Red  Dog  is  commonly  hostile, 
an*  on  the  perren'yal  outs,  thar's  occasions  sech  as  In 
juns  or  us  runnin'  low  as  to  licker  an*  the  freighters  not 
in  on  time,  when  we-all  lends  each  other  fraternal  coun 
tenance.  Tharfore  the  Red  Dog  chief  makes  no  haughty 
demurs  to  a  conference,  but  obligin'ly  canters  over  in- 
stanter,  with  Boggs  an*  Cherokee,  who's  sent  to  fetch  him, 
as  a  escort  of  honor;  an'  all  mighty  partic'lar  an'  p'lite. 

"As  the  Red  Dog  chief  swings  out  o'  the  saddle  at  the 
Red  Light,  he's  certainly  a  fash'onable  lookin'  spectacle. 
His  saddle — stamped  leather — is  gold  trimmed,  his  spurs 
wrought  steel,  his  guns  pearl  mounted,  while  about  his 
sombrero  is  looped  a  pound  of  bullion  in  the  shape  of  a 
rooby-eyed  rattlesnake  with  diamond  rattles.  Also, 
on  his  bridle-rein  hangs  five  Apache  skelps;  an',  consid- 
erin'  that  sech  mementoes  is  worth  twenty-five  dollars 
per  top-knot  at  the  Tucson  bank,  an'  goes  as  so  much  cash 
in  transactions  involvin'  licker  or  farobank  or  roolette 
in  any  joint  in  town,  we-all  nacherally  regyards  'em  as 
comprisin'  a  mighty  lib'ral  adornment.  Altogether, 
as  that  Red  Dog  magnate  comes  jinglin'  up  to  the  Red 
Light  bar,  an'  Black  Jack  searches  him  out  a  bottle  of 
the  best,  he's  a  pageant  to  do  any  outfit  proud. 

"Followin'  a  mootial  round  of  drinks,  Enright  an' 
Peets,  with  the  balance  of  us  mootely  backin'  the  play, 
imparts  what  clouds  is  lowerin'  over  Texas. 

"An'  our  idee,'  concloods  Enright,  p'intin'  to  where 
193 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

pore  Texas  is  camped  off  by  himse'f,  silent  an'  hopeless 
that  a- way,  'is  that  most  likely  you-all  gents  of  Red 
Dog'll  offer  him  a  haven.  The  lady,  who  is  doo  in  a  week 
or  so,  will  not,  I  takes  it,  stay  forever.  Pendin'  her  pullin' 
her  freight,  an*  while  she's  rummagin'  'round,  would  you- 
all,  as  a  favor  to  yoonited  Wolfville,  afford  the  foogitive  a 
sanctchooary  ? ' 

"  Which  the  ready  promptitood,  wharwith  the  Red  Dog 
chief  acquiesces,  is  a  heap  to  his  credit. 

"'Shore/  he  says;  'Mister  Thompson  is  not  only  free 
of  my  own  personal  wickeyup,  but  I  shall  tend  him  as  a 
honored  guest.  He  can  go  thar  onder  cover,  an'  none 
to  molest  him  or  make  him  afraid.  No  one'll  so  much 
as  even  think  of  lookin'  cockeyed  in  his  direction.  Thar 
is,  however,  one  su'gestion.' 

"Yere  the  Red  Dog  chief  explains  how,  as  to  the  moo- 
tial  dooties  of  husband  an'  wife,  public  sent'ment  in  his 
camp  is  some  divided. 

"'There  is  other  questions,'  he  goes  on,  'concernin' 
which  all  hands  hangs  together  like  a  brace  of  six-shooters 
on  a  single  belt.  Considerin*  the  pecooliar  bent  of  the 
gen'ral  Red  Dog  mind,  tharfore,  an'  to  avoid  ferment,  I 
recommends  that,  instead  of  handin'  it  out  how  Mister 
Thompson  is  pursooed  by  a  wife  from  whom  he's  escaped, 
it  would  be  a  heap  more  feasible  to  let  on  he's  a  simple 
foogitive  from  jestice.  Dodgin'  all  problems  of  domes 
ticity  an*  puttin'  it  on  the  broad  grounds  of  him  bein' 
merely  a  malefactor  that  a-way,  whom  they're  trying  to 
ketch,  you'll  shore  have  Red  Dog  with  you  like  a  land 
slide.' 

194 


TEXAS  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 

"'Which  your  observations,'  returns  Enright,  'seems 
plenty  pertinent  an*  founded  in  a  heap  of  hoss  sense. 
It  only  remains  to  ask  what  particular  felony's  most  apt  to 
awaken  a  reesponsive  chord  in  the  Red  Dog  bosom  ? ' 

"'If  you  leaves  it  to  me/  counsels  the  Red  Dog  chief, 
'I'd  onloose  the  roomer  he's  bumped  off  a  Mexican. 
It  can  be  hinted  how  effete  Eastern  inflooences  has  done 
permeeated  in  among  the  Texas  public,  an*  taught  'em 
to  view  beefin'  Mexicans  intol'rant.' 

"'But  won't  their  s'spicions  begin  to  set  up,'  asks  Peets, 
'  when  they  notes  it's  a  lady  ?  We  shore  can't  hope  none 
to  pass  off  one  of  her  tender  sex  as  a  officer.' 

'"Which  we'll  p'int  to  her  bein'  a  lady  that  a-way,' 
replies  the  Red  Dog  chief,  'as  a  sooperb  instance  of 
Lone  Star  chicane.  We'll  explain  on  the  sly  how  she 
aims,  after  locatin'  her  quarry,  to  sign  up  the  folks  at 
Austin  for  aid.  Followin'  which,  they  figgers  on  prounc- 
in'  on  Mister  Thompson  like  coyotes  on  some  sleepin' 
cotton-tail.' 

"'The  objecks  of  the  meetin'  bein'  thus  satisfactor'ly 
disposed  of,  the  Red  Dog  chief  takes  to  reelaxin'  round 
with  Enright,  Peets  an'  the  outfit  gen'ral,  consoomin' 
nosepaint  an'  becomin'  fraternal  equal.  Texas  is  brought 
for'ard  an'  introdooced;  but  he's  that  dazed  an'  cowed, 
when  he  receives  them  overchoors  of  safety  tendered  by 
the  Red  Dog  chief,  Enright's  driven  to  'pologize. 

ft  Which  you  wouldn't  know  him/  says  Enright, 
alloodin*  to  Texas,  an'  whisperin'  in  the  Red  Dog  chief's 
y'ear,  'he's  so  dejected  an'  overcome  since  ever  he  re 
ceives  that  fatal  missive.  You-all  sees  how  on-strung 

195 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

he  is,  an*  crippled  down  in  heart?  An'  yet,  pard,  I 
don't  exaggerate  when  I  enforms  you  that  as  recent  as  a 
week  ago  he  could  go  in,  b'ar  handed,  an'  kill  his  weight 
in  wolves.' 

"The  Red  Dog  chief  accepts  these  explanations  in  a 
complaisant  mood,  an'  allows  he  fully  onderstands. 
'For/  says  he,  *  while  I  never  has  no  shore  enough  wife  of 
my  own,  I  knows  gents  who  has,  an'  likewise  possesses 
powers  of  appreciation.' 

"Followin'  a  mod 'rate  an'  mighty  cer'monious  dee- 
bauch,  the  Red  Dog  chief  rides  away  to  his  tribe  ag'in, 
and  Wolfville  bends  its  brows  to  details.  She'll  decend  on 
us  by  means  of  the  stage,  we  argues,  an  it's  agreed  that 
Old  Monte  on  the  run  in,  is  to  make  a  smoke  on  the  mesa 
at  the  mouth  of  the  canyon,  whenever  he's  got  her  aboard. 
That'll  give  the  camp  ample  notice,  an'  Texas  can  sidle 
over  to  Red  Dog  an'  go  into  secloosion.  By  way  of  pre- 
parin',  the  very  next  day  a  beacon  of  pitch-pine  knots  is 
heaped  up  on  said  eminence,  ready  for  the  warnin'  match. 

"Old  Monte  is  puffed  up  egreegious  when  he  learns. 
'An'  you  bet  you  can  rely  on  me,  gents!'  he  says,  sort 
o'  bulgin'  out  his  chest.  'Your  Uncle  Monte  never  fails 
a  friend  or  lays  down  on  a  play.' 

"This  yere  bluff's  all  right;  still  we-all  don't  put  so 
much  confidence  in  the  old  dipsomaniac,  but  what  we 
posts  the  eboolient  young  sport,  who's  jest  then  tryin' 
to  get  killed  by  hold-ups,  ridin'  shot-gun  for  the  Wells- 
Fargo  people,  to  himse'f  set  fire  to  our  mesa  signal,  in 
case  old  Monte's  too  far  gone  in'  drink. 

"When  all's  said,  however,  it  ain't  beacon  fires,  nor 

196 


TEXAS  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 

yet  Old  Monte  soaked  of  licker,  that  gives  us  most  onease. 
Thar's  Missis  Rueker,  an*  Tucson  Jennie,  an'  Faro  Nell : 
— them  ladies  has  got  to  be  squar'd. 

"'Thai's  no  other  way,  Doc/  declares  Enright;  'we've 
got  to  take  'em  in  on  this.  Which  if  we-all  don't,  with 
the  ardor  an'  genius  for  bein'  permiscus  that  is  sech  al- 
loorin'  traits  of  the  sex,  they'll  jest  about  side  in  with 
this  yere  deestroyin'  angel,  an'  tell  her  whar  Texas  is.' 

'"  They  wouldn't  be  that  treach'rous!'  expostchoolates 
Peets. 

"'Not  ord'narily,'  says  Enright;  'but  yere  the  com- 
plainin'  witness'll  be  a  fellow  lady.  Onder  sech  circum 
stances,  you  couldn't  put  a  bet  on  'em.  Our  best  hold 
is  to  side-line  'em  with  promises,  an*  hobble  'em  with 
compacts  of  nootrality,  in  advance.' 

"It  takes  no  end  of  talk  to  bring  them  ladies  into  line, 
an'  Missis  Rueker  holds  out  speshul.  She  allows  she 
ain't  none  convinced  but  what  Texas  has  done  wrong. 

"'Thar's  a  preedom'nant  streak  of  villainy,'  says  Missis 
Rueker,  'in  all  men,  an'  it'll  be  plenty  queer  if  Texas 
Thompson  proves  a  exception  to  the  roole.' 

"An'  yet,  my  good  madam,'  reemonstrates  Enright,  'it's 
to  one  side  of  your  womanly  dooties,  which  is  to  conduct 
the  O.  K.  Restauraw  in  your  present  admir'ble  style. 
Thar's  a  adage,  "Let  every  gent  kill  his  own  snakes:" 
an'  the  same  applies  to  ladies.' 

'"In  which  case,'  retorts  Missis  Rueker,  mighty  tart, 
'whyever  be  you  an'  Peets  an'  the  rest  of  these  he-mal 
contents  interferin'  to  hide  Texas  from  this  deserted 
lady's  search?'  Then,  seein'  how  nonplussed  Enright 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

looks,  she  adds:  *  However,  as  you  perhaps  jestly  re 
marks,  my  business  is  runnin'  restauraws,  not  healin' 
fam'ly  breaches;  so,  if  I  can  an*  for  this  once,  I'll  stand 
paws-off.' " 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   FALSE   ALARM 

THROUGHOUT    the    followin'    two   weeks,  the 
popular  strain  is  frightful.     Along  towards   the 
end,  when  it's  nearin'  the  hour  for  the  stage  to 
show  up,  the  entire  camp  takes  to  scannin'  that  mesa 
over  to  the  north  for  signals.     One  evenin'  thar  she 
is,  towerin'  aloft  like  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night  an'  cloud 
by  day.     At  the  earliest  smoke-puff,  Texas  is  in  the 
saddle  an'  off  to  place  himse'f  in  the  hands  of  the  Red 
Dog  chief  as  a  sacred  trust. 

"'Boys,'  says  Enright,  deeply  moved,  'we  ought  never 
to  forget  the  obligation  which  Red  Dog  this  day  puts 
us  onder.' 

"The  stage  comes  rumblin'  in;  but  none  of  us  is  hanker- 
in'  'round,  for  we  decides  it's  more  sapient  to  act  like 
we  ain't  expectin'  nothin*.  Still,  we  gets  a  flash  at  the 
lady  with  the  tails  of  our  eyes  as  she  steps  out,  an'  as 
near  as  we  can  count  her  up  she's  mighty  person 'ble. 
Old  Monte  confirms  this  yere  belief. 

Gents,  she's  a  goddess,'  he  says :  that's  whatever, 
she's  a  goddess!  An'  sweet?  Which  honey-suckles  is 
p'isin  ivy  to  her!' 

"Not  that  no  one  feels  bound  by  Old  Monte's  com 
mendation,  an'  him  steeped  in  rum  perpetchooal  to  sech 
degrees  he's  devoid  of  jedgment.  Peets,  however,  makes 

199 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

a  excoose  for  loafin'  over  to  the  O.  K.  parlor  where  she's 
gone,  an*  poco  tiempo  comes  teeterin'  back  a  heap  more 
enthoosiastic  than  Old  Monte. 

"'It  shore  baffles  me/  exclaims  Peets,  'to  guess  what 
ever  Texas  is  thinkin'  of  when  he  quits!' 

"'Her  lookin'  like  a  hooman  sunbeam,  that  a- way, 
Doc,'  urges  Enright,  'is  mebby  her  dooplicity.  You 
let  her  once  get  her  claws  on  Texas,  an'  I'll  gamble  she 
comes  out  in  her  true  colors.  Did  you-all  enter  into 
confab  with  her?' 

'"Why  yes,'  returns  Peets,  turnin'  shamed  an'  diffi 
dent.  'She  asks  me  do  I  know  a  Mister  Thompson; 
whereat  I  nacherally  flies  to  fiction,  an'  lets  on  I'm  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  same  as  herse'f.  Then  I 
advises  her  to  talk  to  you.  To  be  frank,  Sam' — yere 
Peets  adopts  looks  disgraceful  to  sheep — 'I  comes  ro- 
mancin*  across  right  now,  at  her  requests,  to  ask  you 
won't  you  appear  an'  answer  queries.' 

"'Doc,'  says  Enright,  a  heap  reproachful,  'do  you-all 
call  this  bein'  loyal?  However,  let  it  go  as  it  lays;  I 
shall  confer  with  this  lady.  Forchoonate  it  is  for  the 
hunted  Texas,  that  thar's  one  soul  in  camp  who's  not  to 
be  blandished  by  no  siren!' 

"Enright  ain't  allowed  to  face  them  dangers  alone, 
for  Peets  an'  Boggs  goes  trackin'  along  at  his  intrepid 
heels.  The  lady  is  all  Old  Monte  hints  at.  Not  to  go 
holdin'  out  the  trooth,  she's  that  beautiful  it's  reedic'lous 
— with  big  deep  eyes  an'  soft  h'ar,  brown  an'  glossy. 
Thar's  tears  on  her  cheeks,  too,  as  she  turns  to  Enright; 
an'  while  he  braces  himse'f,  I  sees  he's  shook. 

200 


THE  FALSE  ALARM 

"'Parding  me,'  says  the  lady,  'I'm  Missis  Thompson 
— Missis  Joolia  Thompson.' 

"  Enright  roves  'round  to  Peets  with  his  eye.  '  Excoose 
me,  ma'am,'  he  exclaims,  mighty  abrupt,  'I'll  be  with 
you  ag'in  in  a  moment/ 

"The  lady  seems  s'prised,  like  she  ain't  none  convinced 
but  Enright  is  locoed.  However  she  bows,  same  as  to 
say,  'Why  shore!' 

"Enright  drags  Peets — who  as  I  says  is  hangin'  on 
to  his  r'ar — into  the  street. 

"'Doc,'  whispers  Enright;  'you  notes  how  she  declar's 
herse'f  as  Joolia  an'  not  Jane  ? ' 

"Not  being  deef  as  adders,'  returns  Peets,  'I 
does.' 

"  Whatever  is  your  deeductions  tharfrom?'  asks 
Enright.  'An'  remember,  this  yere  ain't  no  time  fav'r- 
able  for  errors.' 

f'With  which  last  bluff  I'm  in  hearty  accord,'  says 
Peets.  'Jest  the  same,  Sam,  it's  plain  thar's  been  a 
misdeal;  this  lady  ain't  scoutin'  for  Texas  nohow;  she's 
layin'  for  some  other  Thompson.' 

"Enright,  who's  plumb  conservative,  an'  no  one  to  go 
followin'  off  every  track  he  cuts,  sort  o'  hes'tates. 
'Mebby,'  he  says,  'her  declarin'  herse'f  as  "Joolia"  is  a 
deevice.  We  must  proceed  with  caution,  Doc;  we 
mustn't  be  betrayed  into  furnishin'  the  means  of  her 
nailin'  Texas  on  the  very  nest.' 

''That's  troo,'  chimes  in  Peets,  growin'  doobious 
ag'in.  'Texas  is  shore  the  only  member  of  the  tribe  of 
Thompson  whoever  makes  a  moccasin  track  yereabouts. 
14  201 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"  Joolia"  may  be  but  a  trap.  Yes,  the  more  I  dwells  on 
it,  the  more  I  feels  she's  after  Texas/ 

"'After  Texas?'  breaks  in  Missis  Rucker,  who  with 
Tucson  Jennie  an'  Faro  Nell,  anf  all  in  states  of  ex 
citement,  refooses  longer  to  be  restrained;  'to  be 
shore  she's  after  Texas!  Also,  I  wants  in  on  this  yere 
talk.' 

"'Why,  certain,  ma'am,'  returns  Enright,  who  makes 
a  play  at  seemin'  easy,  but  succeeds  only  in  bein'  feeble 
a  whole  lot — 'why  certain!  The  Doc  an'  me  is  jest  on 
the  verge  of  goin'  projectin'  round'  to  get  your  'pinions, 
ain't  we,  Doc?' 

'"To  be  shore  you  be!'  retorts  Missis  Rucker,  a 
heap  sneerin'  and  spiteful.  '  Which  I'll  about  save  you 
two  numbskulls  the  trip!  My  'pinions  is  that  Texas 
Thompson's  statements,  about  his  wife's  name  bein' 
"Jane,"  is  one  of  that  reptile's  m'licious  falsehoods. 
Havin'  deserted  this  innocent  girl,  he  now  takes  to  lyin' 
and  layin'  it  all  to  her.  Oh,  the  perf'dy  of  man!  Which 
I  sees  "  Wretch "  writ  on  the  lineements  of  that  Texas 
Thompson,  the  instant  he  pulls  a  cha'r  up  to  my  dinner 
table!  Jen' — yere  she  pulls  Tucson  Jennie  for'ard — 'is 
workin'  in  my  kitchen  at  the  time,  an'  when  I  comes  out 
for  them  viands  he  desires  I  says,  "Jen,  if  ever  a  born 
crim'nal  asks  for  flapjacks,  he's  in  the  dinin'  room  right 
now!"  Don't  I  utter  them  precise  words,  Jen?' 

"'Which,  Missis  Rucker,  you  asshoredly  does,'  replies 
Tucson  Jennie,  coincidin'  emphatic. 

"Tucson  Jennie  then  wanders  off  into  copious  endorse 
ments  of  all  Missis  Rucker  says  an*  all  she's  goin'  to  say, 

202 


THE  FALSE  ALARM 

while  Faro  Nell,  who's  in  rapchoors  over  the  visitin* 
lady's  bonnet,  expresses  herse'f  sim'lar. 

"'No  one,  not  a  born  angel/  cries  Faro  Nell,  wavin' 
her  diminyootive  paws  ecstatic,  '  could  possess  sech  heav 
enly  tastes  in  hats!' 

"Then  Missis  Rucker  fetches  loose  ag'in  plumb 
passionate  an*  vindictive/ 

"'Sam  Enright/  she  shouts,  'don't  you  monsters  pre- 
soome  to  ask  my  he'p  in  your  ornery  plots  to  martyrize 
this  child  no  further!  I'm  goin'  to  tell  her  whar  that 
miser'ble  Texas  is.' 

"That's  whatever!'  screams  Tucson  Jennie  an'  Faro 
Nell  in  chorus.  'Let's  all  tell  her!' 

"Dan/  whispers  Enright,  as  Missis  Rucker  and  the 
other  two  goes  p'intin'  in  to  make  them  disclosures, 
'sharp's  the  word!  Pitch  a  hull  onto  a  pony,  quick,  an' 
go  tell  Texas  to  make  a  dash  for  the  Mexico  line.  It's 
his  last  hope.' 

"It  certainly  seems  like  Missis  Rucker  owns  powers 
of  divination;  for,  as  Enright  gives  this  command,  she 
falls  to  the  r'ar  so  as  to  bring  all  of  'em  onder  her  eye. 

"'None  of  your  Apache  tricks,  Sam  Enright/  she 
remarks,  as  hard  an'  brittle  as  the  blade  of  a  bowie; 
'Dan  Boggs  ain't  goin'  to  give  no  warnin's.  Now  you 
three  tarrapins  mosey  on  ahead,  where  I  keeps  tabs  on 
you.' 

" '  But  you'll  let  me  ask  this  yere  lady  about  the  divorce  ? ' 
expostchoolates  Enright.  "It's  bloo  chips  to  clamshells, 
she's  in  wrong.  Maybe  Texas  ain't  the  Thompson 
she's  hungerin'  for  at  all.' 

203 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'Not  one  word,  Sam  Enright!'  returns  Missis 
Rucker,  firm  as  granite.  '  You  an*  your  fellow  inquis'tor, 
Doc  Peets  thar,  ain't  goin'  to  torture  this  bleedin'  dove 


no  more.' 


"Enright  casts  a  disparin'  glance  across  to  the  Red 
Light,  from  which  ark  of  safety  Cherokee  an*  Tutt  an' 
Jack  Moore  is  gazin'  horror-stricken.  They  can't  hear 
none;  but  they're  cunnin'  enough  from  what  they  sees 
not  to  want  in  on  the  hand.  Enright  seeks  to  cajole 
'em  over  by  beckonin'  with  his  fingers;  but  they  proves 
too  foxey,  and  stands  pat. 

"'It's  no  avail,'  says  Missis  Rucker,  'you  makin' 
signs  to  them  confed 'rates  of  yours.  Which  you  sots 
will  find,  before  I'm  done,  that  Texas  Thompson  ain't 
goin'  to  lay  waste  no  young  life,  an'  then  coldly  escape 
meetin'  the  injured  victim  of  his  wiles.  From  now  on, 
I  takes  personal  charge  of  this  reyoonion ! ' 

"'Doc,'  says  Enright,  as  the  two  with  Boggs  marches 
he'plessly  ahead  of  Missis  Rucker,  'at  least  it's  Texas 
who  marries  this  yere  wife  of  his,  not  us.  He  should 
have  remembered  that  as  you  sow,  so  shall  you-all 
reap.' 

"Missis  Rucker  close-herds  her  captives  back  into  the 
O.  K.  House,  while  Tucson  Jennie  an'  Faro  Nell  goes 
an'  comes  on  the  flanks,  preventin'  stragglin'  an'  cuttin' 
off  escape.  It's  yere  the  onexpected  gets  action.  As 
Missis  Rucker  an'  the  others  enters  the  door,  thar's  little 
Enright  Peets,  lispin'  and  chirpin'  away  at  the  vis'tor 
lady,  as  pert  and  sassy  as  a  joovenile  catbird.  His  two 
short  cub-b'ar  laigs  is  spread  wide,  an'  he's  rockin'  for- 

204 


THE  FALSE  ALARM 

'ards  an'  back  on  his  fat  small  feet,  like  a  infant  party 
who's  plumb  pleased  with  his  p'sition  in  s'ciety. 

"'Oh!'  he's  a  sayin*  in  his  baby  way — which  he's 
six  the  round-up  before — 'oh!  you-all  means  my 
Uncle  Tommy.  Uncle  Tommy's  gone  skallyhootin'  over 
to  Red  Dog,  so's  you  won't  ketch  him  none.  My  paw's 
Dave  Tutt;  an*  he  tells  my  maw  all  about  it.  I  hears 
him  on'y  las'  night,  when  they-all  allows  I'm  asleep. 
You  bet  I  saveys  when  not  to  sleep,  as  well  as  any  wolf 
whoever  yelps  on  a  hill — I  does!' 

" '  Oh,  you  sweet,  good,  dear,  cunnin'  baby  child,  you ! ' 
says  the  vis'tor  lady,  curryin'  little  Enright  Peets'  ha'r 
with  her  fingers  soft  as  silk. 

"'Sam/  says  Peets,  desp'rately  comin'  to  the  front, 
'  our  hands  is  tipped  off  by  babes,  an'  it  ain't  no  use  to 
play  'em.  It's  all  up  with  Texas,  an'  we  might  as  well 
go  to  the  diskyard/ 

"Mebby  we  makes  terms/  urges  Enright,  who  by 
nacher  is  a  badger  to  hang  on,  an'  swing  an'  rattle  with 
a  proposition  to  the  last.  'S'ppose  you-all  offers  her 
money,  Doc.  Which  if  a  handful  of  thousands'll  squar' 
this  thing,  tell  her  the  camp  is  yere  with  its  roll  to  make 
good/ 

"Money!*  exclaims  the  beautiful  victim,  whose 
y'ears  corrals  the  word  while  she's  wildly  carressin'  little 
Enright  Peets;  'me  take  money  for  my  desolate  heart! 
I  wants  my  trooant  husband!'  With  this,  she  slumps  off 
into  a  gale  of  sobs,  carryin'  Missis  Rucker  with  Faro  Nell 
an'  Tucson  Jennie  along. 

"Thar's  nothin'  else  to  be  done,  so  we  organizes  into 
205 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

a  sorrowful  cavalcade,  to  journey  over  to  Red  Dog,  an* 
witness  the  ropin*  up  of  Texas.  Enright  is  speshully 
gloomy,  an*  makes  onavailin'  requests  of  Missis  Rucker 
to  let  him  go  weavin'  on  ahead. 

'"I  gives  you  my  honor,  ma'am/  he  says,  'that  all  I 
plans  is  to  get  Texas's  guns.  You  shorely  don't  want  this 
yere  to  end  in  his  se'f-destruction  none  ? ' 

"'You  take  a  back  seat,  Sam  Enright!'  is  all  he  gets 
from  Missis  Rucker,  who  every  moment  grows  more  an' 
more  indom'table.  '  Which  I'm  floor-managin'  this  baile.' 

"Well,  well!" — the  old  gentleman  gave  a  sigh  of  relief 
and  proceeded  to  fill  his  glass — "it's  always  darkest 
jest  before  the  dawn.  Also,  in  the  words  of  the  Congo 
reviv'list,  as  he  tries  to  quote  the  poet  at  the  camp  meetin', 
'  God  moves  in  a  myster'ous  way  His  blunders  to  perform.' 
It's  while  affairs  is  thus  lookin'  murkiest  for  Texas,  that 
eevents  in  their  courses  strikes  the  onforeseen  and  glances 
happ'ly  off. 

"Two  months  preev'ous,  a  weak-faced,  cat-chinned, 
slack-lipped  feebleist,  who  gives  his  name  as  Dobbs, 
drifts  into  Wolfville;  an',  because  he  appears  oncap'ble, 
an'  of  no  consequence  in  this  life,  we-all  takes  a  hard 
forbiddin'  look  at  him,  that  borders  on  the  threatenin'. 
The  cat-chinned  party,  bein'  plumb  timorous,  shrinks 
from  among  us,  an'  backs  into  Red  Dog,  apparently 
ketchin'  said  outfit  off  its  gyard.  Thar,  by  the  grace 
of  accident  an'  what  Red  Dog  overlooks  in  his  appear 
ance,  he  becomes  cashier  in  a  beanery,  called  the  Gar- 
field  Restauraw,  kept  by  one  Pete  Bland,  where  he  makes 
change  an'  sorts  nickles  for  his  chuck. 

206 


THE  FALSE  ALARM 

"  Thar's  nothing  of  the  man  to  this  cat-chinned  party, 
an'  his  best  attriboots,  perhaps,  is  a  shock  of  curly  ha'r, 
long  enough  an*  voloom'ously  thick  enough,  to  afford 
nests  for  forty  flyin'  squirrels.  This  yere  car'cachoor 
of  a  gent  is  behind  his  desk  in  Pete  Eland's  bean-j'int, 
when  we-all  comes  sadly  troopin'  up  Red  Dog's  single 
street.  Likewise  his  bein'  thar  is  shorely  onder  the  pub 
lic  welfare  clause  of  the  constitootion,  so  far  as  Texas 
is  involved.  The  instant  our  beautiful  vis'tin'  lady 
claps  her  tear-dimmed  eyes  on  him,  she  gives  one  heart 
felt  squawk,  t'ars  loose  from  the  protectin'  pinion  of 
Missis  Rucker,  an*  the  next  moment  grapevines  herse'f 
about  his  neck. 

"My  beloved  husband!'  she  cries,  her  head  on  his 
shoulder,  him  standin'  stock  still,  with  eyes  like  a  macker 
el's. 

"Peets  is  first  to  find  his  mental  feet: — which  Peets 
ondoubted  is  the  briskest  sharp  west  of  the  Atlantic  ocean  I 
'  Go ! '  says  he  to  Boggs ; '  b'ar  the  gladsome  news  to  Texas ! ' 

"Nacherally  confoosion  reigns.  The  Red  Dog  chief, 
however,  continyoos  to  be  all  urban'ty.  He  draws 
Enright  to  one  side: 

"Thar's  nothin'  this  chipmunk  commits/  says  he, 
tossin'  his  thumb  toward  the  capchoored  husband,  'which 
onder  Red  Dog  rooles  requires  lynchin'.  None  the  less, 
an'  by  way  of  compliment  to  you-all  Wolfville  guests  of 
ours,  if  you  says  the  word  we  hangs  him  up.' 

"But  Enright  declar's  sech  moves  onnecessary,  no 
p'int  of  honor  bein'  involved.  'Moreover,'  he  observes, 
'thar's  the  feelin's  of  his  wife.' 

207 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'Gents/  says  the  capchoored  cat-chinned  party, 
when  he  beholds  us  glowerin'  at  him  plenty  baleful — 
for  we're  thinkin'  of  pore  Texas's  sufferings — 'I  pleads 
guilty  to  bein'  this  lady's  husband;  also,  I  admits  I'm 
wrong  when  I  assoomes  a  alias.  An'  yet,  gents,  Joolia'll 
tell  you  thar's  no  malignancy  in  me.  I  don't  smoke,  or 
drink,  or  chew  terbacco,  or  sw'ar,  or  go  cavortin'  about 
after  the  sex.  In  all  respecks  I'm  a  mighty  moral  man.' 

"'Which  I  reckons  you  be,'  comments  Enright,  plumb 
severe.  'Morality,  that  a- way,  is  freequent  a  question 
of  health,  an*  you  certainly  does  seem  much  too  sickly  to 
be  sinful.'  Then,  addressin'  the  beautiful  visitin'  lady, 
who's  still  looped  onto  her  prod'gal  husband's  neck,  'Is 
thar  aught  in  favor  of  this  maverick  ? ' 

"'Pore  John,'  she  sobs,  'is  one  of  the  best  of  husbands; 
except  he  ain't  what  you  might  call  se'f  supportin*  none. 
Otherwise,  he's  plumb  good.' 

"'It's  not  for  me  to  crit'cise,  ma'am,'  says  Enright, 
turnin'  away.  'This  horned  toad  belongs  to  you,  not 
me.  Only,  he  ought  to  be  brought  to  ree'lize,  as  the  ex- 
per'ence  of  the  centuries,  that  it's  a  heap  sight  more 
important  in  this  world,  for  a  gent  to  make  good  than  to 
be  good;  which  tenet  applies  with  double  force  to  hus 
bands.' 

'"Never  you  mind,  dearie,'  coos  Missis  Rucker,  as 
she  an'  Faro  Nell  an'  Tucson  Jennie  gather  about,  pettin' 
an'  cossettin'  the  beautiful  vis'tin'  lady, '  never  you  mind ! 
You've  got  your  husband  ag'in!  I  was  shore  we'd  on- 
earth  him  somehow,  from  the  jump.' 

"'No  voylence,'  commands  Enright  some  stern,  as 

208 


THE  FALSE  ALARM 

Texas  arrives  with  Boggs,  the  old  f'rocious  fire  in  his 
ontamed  glance,  'no  voylence!' 

'"Voylence?'  repeats  Texas,  full  of  bitter  scorn  at 
the  idee.  '  Gents,  I'm  a  artist  of  revenge.  This  craven 
has  caused  me  agony  ontold;  but  what  then?  Shall  I 
down  him — an'  him  a  married  man!  Never!  Sech  steps 
would  be  weakness — blind,  witless  weakness,  not  ven 
geance.  No;  I  shall  let  him  live  on  a  husband.  An* 
when  she  embarks  for  Tucson  with  him,  I'll  ride  by  the 
side  of  the  coach,  not  as  a  gyard,  not  to  keep  him  from 
escaping  but  for  the  priv'ledge  of  gloatin' — of  solacin' 
my  harrassed  soul  with  savage  gloats/ 

"Cherokee/  observes  Boggs  later,  when  him  an* 
Cherokee  is  makin'  a  mootial  round-up  of  results,  'do 
you-all  remember  them  closin'  remarks  of  Texas'? 
Now  an'  then,  when  somethin'  intervenes  that  a-way, 
to  lift  one  of  his  griddles,  I  ketches  fiery  glimpses 
in  Texas  of  some  of  the  worst  elements  of  a  fiend.' 

"Which  once  he's  roused/ returns  Cherokee,  shakin* 
his  head,  'you  bet  Texas  is  a  mighty  invet'rate  form  of 
gent.'" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  JEST   OF  TALKY  JONES 

DO  I  believe  in  this  yere  Christian  Science?" 
My  aged  philosopher  looked  up  to  repeat  the 
question.  The  magazine,  which  he  held  in 
his  hand,  carried  a  bitter  attack  on  Christian  Science, 
its  founder  and  all  who  embraced  the  one  or  followed  the 
other.  "Well,  no,"  he  continued;  "I  can't  say  I  goes 
with  it  tamely  from  soda  to  hock;  but  I  believes  it  some. 
One  thing  shore" — shaking  the  magazine — "I  ain't  none 
in  favor  of  harrassin'  the  deeclinin'  years  of  a  lady,  jest 
because  we  don't  agree.  Speakin'  for  myse'f,  personal, 
I  don't  favor  harrassin'  any  lady,  no  matter  who  she  is  or 
what's  her  little  game.  It  ain't  my  system,  me  holdin' 
that  ladies  has  enough  to  struggle  ag'inst  as  mere  ladies, 
without  some  he-profligate  seekin'  to  heap  their  burdens 
higher. 

"Reecurrin'  to  Christian  Science,  my  jedgment's 
with  it  every  now  an'  then.  I  believes  for  example 
that  you-all  can  up  an'  think  yourse'f  sick  when 
you're  well.  But  I  finds  myse'f  hesitatin'  'round  be 
tween  a  balk  an'  a  break-down  when  I  ondertakes  to 
assoome  that  you  can  think  yourse'f  well  when  you're 
sick.  In  sech  events  I  calls  in  Doc  Peets,  an'  falls  back 
on  drugs  entire. 

210 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

"In  Tennessee,  when  I'm  a  yearling  old  Missis  Grim- 
shaw  lays  in  bed  for  years,  allowin'  she  can't  walk  none. 
She'd  set  up,  an'  try  on  bunnets,  an'  buy  frocks,  an' 
trail  out  after  the  fashions,  same  as  if  she's  goin*  to  take 
in  all  the  infares  an'  soap  b'ilin's  an'  sociables  an'  quiltin' 
bees  an*  huskin*  frolics  along  the  'Possum  Trot.  But 
jest  the  same  she  never  budges  out  o'  bed;  holdin',  as  I 
says,  that  her  laigs  ain't  no  more  use  that  a-way  than  a 
couple  of  corn-stalks. 

"Sis  Grimshaw  keeps  up  this  fiction  about  them  laigs 
for  seven  years,  when  one  day  the  hired  girl  drops  a 
skillet  of  red-hot  fat,  an'  sets  the  dug-out  afire.  Thar- 
upon  old  Sis  Grimshaw  comes  b'ilin'  out  from  between 
the  blankets,  an'  runs  a  mile  an'  a  half  like  a  jackrabbit. 
Which  this  yere  dash  down  the  pike  brings  her  to  the  near 
est  neighbor.  That's  as  far  as  she  canters;  she  cripples 
down  right  thar.  An'  as  soon  as  ever  old  Grimshaw  can 
round  himse'f  up  another  habitat,  she  piles  into  bed  ag'in 
instanter,  an'  never  does  get  up  no  more.  Now  a  dose  or 
two  of  Christian  Science  would  mighty  likely  have  fetched 
Sis  Grimshaw  to  her  feet.  It's  a  case  of  where  she's 
well,  an'  only  thinks  she's  sick. 

"But  take  the  time  we-all  lynches  B'ar  Creek  Stanton: 
Do  you  reckon  B'ar  Creek  would  have  beat  that  lariat- 
windmill  game  the  stranglers  opens  on  him,  by  merely 
thinkin'  his  neck  ain't  been  stretched  none?  Skurcely! 
It  marks  the  difference  between  a  theery  an'  a  condition. 
B'ar  Creek  confronts  a  condition;  Sis  Grimshaw's  up 
ag'inst  nothin'  worse  than  a  theery.  In  her  case,  Chris 
tian  Science  beats  the  play  too  easy.  That  occult  branch 

211 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

of  hooman  learnin',  however,  would  have  found  things 
plenty  changed,  if  it  had  stacked  in  ag'inst  that  illness  of 
B'ar  Creek's.  No  amount  of  thinkin',  whether  Chris 
tian  or  scientific,  can  moderate  the  hangin'  feas'bilities  of 
a  rope  an'  a  windmill  in  exact  proportions. 

"  Thar's  bounds  to  the  power  of  hooman  thought,  same 
as  thar  is  to  the  range  of  a  rifle.  Thought'll  only  carry 
so  far.  You-all,  by  thinkin',  can't  keep  two  an'  two 
from  makin'  four,  or  hocus  them  honest  noomerals  into 
makin'  five.  The  good  book  tells  of  the  faith  that  moves 
mountains;  but  thar's  nothin'  in  that  holy  bluff  which 
preecloodes  picks  an'  shovels  as  a  deetail.  Shore,  thar's 
a  faith  that  moves  mountains;  still,  you  can  make  a 
swell  bet  it  ever  preecedes  them  changes  in  the  scenery 
by  layin'  in  a  stock  of  foose  an'  powder  an'  diamond 
drills.  Christian  Science,  same  as  every  other  science, 
is  like  the  limb  of  a  tree.  It'll  hold,  if  you  don't  go 
coonin'  out  too  far.  Over-play,  an'  down  you  go  to  the 
ground,  hurtin'  or  not  hurtin'  yourse'f,  accordin'  as 
you've  been  perchin'  low  or  roostin'  'way  up  yonder. 

"Let  me  reepeat,  son,  thar's  a  limit  goes  with  every 
hooman  game.  I  reads  where  some  sun-kissed  sport 
waxes  that  extravagant  he  gives  it  out  cold  a  day '11  dawn 
when  a  gent'll  live  always,  an'  thar'll  be  no  sech  thing  as 
death.  When  a  party  takes  to  solacin'  himse'f  with 
dreams  as  rannikaboo  as  that,  he's  locoed.  To  talk  of 
no  one  dyin',  is  to  talk  of  no  one  bein'  born.  Either  that, 
or  get  ready  for  a  final  crush  to  which  sardines  will  seem 
as  hermits.  That's  whatever!  you'd  read  of  them 
diminyootive  little  fish  as  reclooses.  That  anti-dyin' 

212 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

sport  has  followed  off  the  wrong  trail.  Life  is  like 
a  dance  hall;  an'  we'll  nacherally  keep  on  dancin' 
an*  dyin',  ontil  the  floor-manager — whoever  he  is  an* 
wharever  he  is — orders  on  the  last  walse,  an'  winds  up 
the  baile  with  the  final  call,  'All  prom'nade  to  the  bar  of 
eternal  jestice!' 

"That's  the  way  I  wants  the  game  played,  too.  I 
wouldn't  live  a  minute  onless  I  was  shore  I  could  die. 
Which  if  some  angel  was  to  prounce  down  on  me  right 
yere,  with  the  news  that  I'm  goin'  to  live  always,  I'd 
drop  dead  in  my  cha'r.  Considerin'  my  years,  I'm  some 
rugged;  but  if  ever  it  gets  proned  into  me,  as  a  fixed  belief, 
that  my  grave  ain't  goin'  to  be  digged  none  an'  I'm  yere 
to  stay,  I'll  rot  down  right  thar." 

The  old  gentleman  paused  to  pour  out  a  drink;  plainly 
his  philosophy  had  made  him  dry.  I  took  advantage 
of  the  moment's  silence.  Had  he  experienced  aught  in 
Arizona  that  exhibited  the  supremacy  of  mind  over 
matter? 

"Which  I've  beheld  a  party  skeered  to  sech  extents  it 
turns  his  ha'r  white  as  paper.  Will  I  reelate  partic'lars  ? 
Nothin'  easier.  The  story  'llustrates  the  perils  of  prac 
tical  jokin',  'speshully  when  it's  too  practical. 

"The  West  has  an  acoote  sense  of  yoomer;  but  if  I'm 
ever  called  on,  to  confer  with  any  gent  who's  figgerin' 
on  crossin*  the  Mississippi,  I'll  shore  advise  ag'inst  him 
becomin'  jocose.  More  guns  have  cracked,  an*  more 
folks  gone  shoutin'  home  to  heaven  in  the  smoke,  as  the 
frootes  of  bein'  witty  that  a-way,  than  can  be  p'inted  to 
as  the  harvest  of  hoss  stealin',  or  stickin'  up  stages,  or 

213 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

any  other  strickly  legitimate  avenoo  of  swellin'  a  grave 
yard. 

"It's  prompt  on  the  discovery  of  ore  in  the  vicin'ty  of 
Wolfville,  that  Talky  Jones  comes  rackin'  in  from  the 
Tin  Cup  district,  which  region  of  mines  lies  some'ers 
over  towards  the  Gunnison  country.  Bern'  a  cattleman, 
I  saveys  nothin'  of  minin',  more'n  to  hanker  'round  the 
rim  of  one  of  them  orifices  they  calls  a  shaft,  an*  look  on  a 
lot.  But  I  knows  Talky,  same  as  does  everybody  else 
in  Wolfville,  before  that  verbose  cimarron  is  present  in 
our  midst  a  day.  Thar's  folks  who  could  out  drink  or 
out  dance  or  out  gamble  Talky,  or  lay  way  over  him  in 
sundry  other  fields  of  hooman  endeavor;  but,  at  bein' 
simply  volyooble,  he  leaves  the  ablest  of  us  miles  behind. 
That's  why  he's  called  'Talky.' 

"Texas  Thompson  allows  that  if  he  himse'f  is  gifted 
with  half  Talky 's  powers  of  conversation,  his  Laredo 
wife  who  soos  out  the  divorce,  would  have  been  subdooed 
into  a  different  lady. 

"'She  despises  me,'  says  Texas,  'because  she  out-talks 
me.  Now  if  I'm  only  possessed  of  Talky's  flow  of  words, 
I'd  have  shore  swept  her  off  her  verbal  feet,  an'  landed 
her  gaspin'  but  inarticyoolate  on  the  banks  of  domestic 
dispootation.  She'd  have  been  too  busy,  savin'  herse'f 
from  bein'  drowned  in  the  currents  of  my  eloquence, 
to  think  of  sep'rations.  Likewise,  she'd  have  loved  me  a 
whole  lot;  for  sech  is  female  nacher.  All  you  has  to  do 
to  hold  a  lady's  heart,  is  lay  back  ontil  she  boards  her 
long  suite,  an'  then  cut  loose  an'  beat  her  to  a  standstill/ 

"Talky  ain't  been  with  us  a  week  when  he  enlists  at- 

214 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

tention  by  the  effervesence  of  his  sperits.  He's  one  of 
them  buoyant  souls,  that  comes  tiptoein'  along  with  a 
stingin'  lizard  they've  hived  for  sech  speshul  occasions, 
an*  drops  said  reptile  into  a  gent's  pocket,  him  bein' 
preeockepied  about  somethin*  else.  Or  ag'in,  on  ob- 
servin'  some  party  wropped  in  sleep  or  licker  or  both, 
they'll  slide  a  horned  toad  down  the  back  of  his  neck. 

"Not  that  Talky  always  gets  away  with  his  antic  an* 
lightsome  bluffs  onscathed.  Once  when  Boggs  is  pourin* 
out  his  reequired  forty  drops  in  the  Red  Light,  Talky 
comes  Injinin'  up  from  the  r'ar,  plannin'  some  hylarious 
outburst.  He  don't  take  the  trick;  Boggs  gets  a  flash 
of  him  in  the  lookin'  glass  back  of  the  bar — bein'  a 
watchful  sport,  that  a-way — an',  instead  of  tossin'  the 
nose-paint  down  his  throat,  he  tosses  it  over  his  shoulder 
into  Talky's  eyes. 

"Ever  get  a  glass  of  licker  in  your  eyes?  No ?  Well 
you  ain't  missed  nothin'.  It's  one  of  them  experiments 
that's  a  heap  sight  better  read  about  than  ree'lized.  I 
passes  through  some  sech  ordeal  a  long  time  ago  in 
Dodge,  an'  for  a  poignant  second  I  figgers  it's  the  s'loon 
took  fire. 

"That  time  Boggs  out-manages  Talky,  Enright  can't 
reefrain  from  rebookin'  the  latter. 

"It's  with  no  desire,  Talky,  to  make  you  ondooly 
proud/  says  Enright,  after  that  yoomerist  ceases  howlin* 
an'  dancin*  an1  rubbin'  his  eyes,  '  that  I  congratchoolates 
you  on  livin'  into  middle  life.  With  your  pecooliar 
talents  for  witticisms,  it's  nothin'  short  of  mir'cles  that 
years  ago  you  ain't  been  killed.' 

215 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"These  yere  strictures,  comin'  from  Enright  too, 
sobers  Talky  down  a  heap;  tharafter  he  confines  his 
gayeties  to  tenderfeet,  an*  don't  practice  'em  none  on  us 
orgi'nal  Wolfville  wolves. 

"Except  for  his  irreepres'ble  appetites  for  practical 
jokin',  thar's  not  much  fault  to  be  found  with  Talky. 
As  a  minin'  gent  he's  shore  industrious;  an*  that  he's 
broke  an*  out  o'  dinero  when  he  strikes  camp  don't 
weigh  ag'in  him  none,  since  bankruptcy  is  the  normal 
state  of  prospectors.  He  goes  to  knockin'  about  in  the 
sityooation  mighty  reedundant,  an*  in  less'n  ten  days 
he  stakes  out  a  mine.  Then  he  invents  one  of  them 
dead-falls  called  a  stock  company,  an'  borrys  money  of 
Cherokee  Hall  to  deevelope  his  claim.  Cherokee,  turnin' 
farobank  like  he  does,  has  more  free  money  than  any 
other  gent  in  camp;  I  reckon  now  his  roll's  as  good  as 
sixty  thousand  dollars.  He  peels  off  five  thousand  for 
Talky;  an*  Talky  hocks  all  of  the  company's  stock  to 
make  good. 

"'What's  the  difference?'  returns  Cherokee,  when 
Tutt  lets  on  he's  seen  the  last  of  that  five  thousand. 
'Thar's  nothin'like  promotin' home  industries.  Talky's 
goin'  to  spend  every  splinter  of  it  yere  in  town,  an'  soon  or 
late  it'll  all  get  changed  in  across  my  lay-out  ag'in. 
Pendin'  which,  you-all  don't  want  to  overlook  the 
fact,  Dave,  that  I've  got  said  stock.' 

"'Which  we've  got  said  stock/  chips  in  Faro  Nell, 
from  her  look-out  stool,  correctin'  Cherokee.  'Ain't 
you  an'  me  partners?' 

"'Right,  Nell,'  says  Cherokee;  'half  the  bank-roll's 
216 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

yours.     Also  t'other  half's  yours,  whenever  you  signs  me 
up  to  that  effect.1 

"Talky  takes  Cherokee's  five  thousand,  hires  a  peas 
ant  from  Red  Dog  of  the  name  of  Chicken  Bill,  an' 
away  goes  them  two  mavericks,  pick  an*  drill  an*  dyna 
mite  an'  windlass,  borin'  their  egreegious  holes  into  the 
bosom  of  the  y'earth.  Bein'  started,  they  sticks  to  their 
diggin'  like  a  brace  of  badgers.  When  him  an*  Chicken 
ain't  diggin'  their  hole,  the  eboolient  Talky  is  p'ramboo- 
latin'  an*  pervadin'  'round,  from  the  Red  Light  to  the 
O.  K.  House,  an'  from  thar  to  the  dance  hall,  as  full  of 
fun  as  a  Virginny  Reel. 

"It  ain't  sayin'  too  much  to  put  it  that  Talky  gains  in 
public  esteeme  as  time  goes  on.  He  calls  his  mine  the 
'Anna-ann  Marie/  after  his  daughter  who  he  says  is  at 
boardin'  school  in  Denver,  gettin'  her  horns  knocked  off. 
Talky  allows  he'll  have  her  visit  him,  as  soon  as  ever  the 
exam'nations  is  through,  an'  the  poopils  counterbranded 
into  grades  above.  Anna-ann  Marie'll  then  be  foot 
loose  an'  free  to  come.  When  we  learns  about 
Talky's  girl,  our  good  opinions  goes  soarin'  higher 
still. 

"Only/  says  Boggs,  'I  don't  see  how  Talky  can  so 
lack  in  se'f  respect  as  to  prance  'round,  playin*  his  low- 
down  reedic'lous  jests,  him  the  parent  of  a  eddicated 
daughter  like  this  Anna-ann  Marie.  Which  if  it's  me 
now,  I'd  never  crack  my  face  with  a  grin,  I'd  be  that 
plumb  dignified.' 

"'That's    whatever!'    says   Tutt.     'Speakin'    as    the 
author  of  little  Enright  Peets,  I  want  to  say  it  abates  my 
!5  217 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

native  friskiness  two-thirds,  me  fearin'  to  set  that  angel 
child  a  gala  example.' 

"Talky  an*  Chicken  Bill  has  sunk  their  shaft  mebby 
it's  fifty  feet,  when  thar  comes  rattlin'  into  town  a  sallow- 
seemin'  young  person  from  the  far  East.  This  yooth 
hands  out  his  title  as  Dobson  Clay  Dusenberry.  After 
gettin'  him  to  repeat  it  several  times,  we  yoonanimously 
decides  to  call  him  'Gooseberry  Ben'  as  easier. 

"Which  this  Gooseberry  fledglin*  don't  dally  'round 
none,  but  comes  to  centers  prompt.  He  informs  us  that, 
havin'  money  of  his  own,  he's  out  to  invest  in  mines. 
In  a  mood  of  proodence,  he's  reesolved  to  first  learn  all 
thar  is  to  know  as  a  shore-enough  miner;  he's  anxious 
to  dig  an'  drill  an'  blast  an'  perform  'round  in  a  mine, 
same  as  though  he  ain't  got  enough  riches  to  buck  ten- 
cent  chuck-a-luck. 

"Harborin'  these  yere  horny-handed  ambitions,  it 
falls  in  nacheral  enough  that,  before  second  drink  time 
the  first  evenin',  Gooseberry's  neegotiatin'  away  his 
liberties  with  Talky,  an'  that  mine  owner  enrolls  him  as 
aide  to  himse'f  an'  Chicken  Bill. 

"  Next  mornin'  Gooseberry  surges  forth  in  rust-colored 
overalls  an'  wammus;  an',  poco  tiempo,  him  an'  Talky  an' 
Chicken  Bill  goes  cavortin'  out  to  the  Anna-ann  Marie. 

"'Sech  a  romantic  name  I'  is  what  I  hears  Gooseberry 
say,  as  the  three  disappears. 

"The  Anna-ann  Marie  is  the  longest  part  of  a  mile 
from  camp,  so  none  of  us  knows  personal  jest  what  takes 
place.  But  this  is  what  Gooseberry  tells  Doc  Peets, 
when  Peets  is  standin'  over  his  lowly  couch  at  the  O.  K. 

218 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

House,  givin'  him  stimyoolants  an'  tryin'  to  cool  down  his 
nerves. 

"'At  the  suggestion  of  the  malignant  Talky,'  explains 
Gooseberry,  'him  an*  me  deescends  into  the  shaft,  leavin' 
the  vulgarian  Chicken  on  the  surface.  We  went  down 
in  a  bucket,  Chicken  onwindin'  us  from  a  rickety  old 
windlass. 

"'Once  at  the  bottom,  Talky  an'  me  with  sledge  an' 
drill  perpetrates  a  hole,  me  holdin'  the  drill.  When  the 
hole  meets  the  tastes  of  Talky,  he  puts  in  a  dynamite 
cartridge,  connects  it  with  a  long  five-minute  foose,  an' 
packs  it  in  an'  thumbs  it  about  with  wet  clay. 

"'This  accomplished,  I'm  hauled  to  the  surface  by 
Chicken.  I  adds  my  strength  to  the  windlass;  Talky 
climbs  into  the  bucket,  lights  the  foose,  passes  the  word, 
an'  is  wound  to  the  top  by  me  an'  Chicken.  We  then 
drug  the  windlass  aside,  covered  the  mouth  of  the  shaft, 
an'  scampered  for  refooge  permiscus. 

"'At  the  end  of  five  minutes  from  the  time  Talky 
lights  the  foose,  an'  mebby  three  minutes  after  we-all 
takes  to  hidin'  out,  the  shot  explodes  with  a  deefenin' 
report.  Tons  of  rock  shoots  hundreds  of  feet  into  the 
shrinkin'  air!  It's  all  mighty  impressive,  an'  gives  me  a 
lesson  in  the  awful  power  of  dynamite.  I'm  a  heap 
pleased,  an'  cannot  but  feel  I'm  shore  learnin'. 

"'Followin'  the  blast,  Talky  an'  me  ag'in  reepairs  to 
the  bottom  of  the  shaft.  Cl'arin'  away  the  deebris,  an' 
sendin'  it  up  an'  out  by  the  bucket,  we  resoomes  work 
with  sledge  an'  drill. 

"It's  now  an'  yere  the  monster  Talky  begins  to  put 
219 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

into  execootion  a  plot  he  has  formed  ag'inst  me,  in  the 
carryin'  out  of  which  the  barbarous  Chicken  lends  his 
felon  aid.  You  must  remember  that  ontil  now  I  has 
perfect  confidence  in  these  yere  ghouls. 

"'"  Which  I  never  sees  no  tenderfoot,"  begins  Talky, 
"who  goes  rompin'  along  like  you  do  at  this  business!" 

"'This  encomium  ain't  on  the  level;  the  murderer  is 
fattenin'  me  for  the  sacrifice. 

"'"Looks  like  you're  born  to  be  a  miner,"  Talky  goes 
on,  "an'  I'd  be  doin'  wrong  to  hold  you  back.  Yoosual 
I  wouldn't  feel  jestified  in  lettin'  no  tenderfoot  fire  a 
shot  till  he's  worked  three  months;  but  you're  different. 
You  has  a  genius  for  minin';  it  comes  as  easy  to  you  as 
suckin'  aiggs!  Sech  bein'  the  case,  I'm  goin'  to  let  you- 
all  fire  the  next  shot  yourse'f." 

'"Nacherally  I  feels  pleased.  To  be  allowed  to 
fire  a  shot  my  first  day  in  a  shaft  I  esteems  a  honor. 
It'll  be  somethin'  to  write  home  about  to  my  folks. 

"'Talky  says  he'll  put  in  the  shot — one  of  giant  size. 
I  sees  the  hercoolean  explosive  placed  in  the  hole.  Talky 
attaches  the  foose,  an'  thumbs  the  clay  about  it  same  as 
prior.  Then  he  turns  to  me. 

'""After  I'm  hauled  up,"  he  says,  "an*  me  an'  Chick 
en's  organized,  you  clamber  into  the  bucket  an'  light  the 
foose.  Followin'  which  you  raises  the  long  yell,  an'  me 
an*  Chicken'll  yank  you  out.  But  be  shore  an'  light  the 
foose.  Thar's  nothin'  so  plumb  aggravatin'  as  waitin' 
'round  up  top  for  half  an  hour,  an'  no  cartridge  goin' 
off.  Speshully  when  she  goes  off  after  you've  come 
pirootin'  back  to  locate  what's  wrong.  This  yere  ought 

220 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

to  be  a  proud,  high  moment  for  you! — firm'  a  shot  the 
first  six  hours  you're  a  miner!" 

"'Talkey  ascends;  when  him  an'  Chicken's  at  the 
windlass,  he  shouts  down:  "All  ready  below!" 

"'I'm  in  the  bucket.  At  the  call  I  scratches  a  match, 
an'  touches  off  the  foose.  It  sputters  an'  smudges  an' 
sparkles  with  alarmin'  ardor,  throwin'  off  a  shower  of 
sparks  like  fireworks! 

"'"H'ist  away!"  I  yells. 

"'At  this  signal  the  villains  runs  me  up  half  way; 
thar  they  come  to  a  dead  halt,  leavin'  me  fast  in  the  shaft. 
From  what  appears,  both  Talky  an'  Chicken  have  aban 
doned  the  windlass,  an'  are  locked  into  a  personal  alter 
cation.  I  knows  nothin'  of  their  trouble;  all  I  hears,  as 
I  swings  thar  over  deestruction,  is  a  storm  of  curses  an' 
threats.  Then  they  takes  to  shootin',  presoomably  at 
each  other. 

"'" Which  I'll  blow  your  heart  out!"  I  hears  Talky 
roar. 

"You  mis'rable  oppressor  of  the  toilin'  masses," 
Chicken  roars  back,  "I'll  shore  shoot  you  off  the  map!" 
"It's  "bang!  bang!  bang!"  in  a  perfect  network  of 
murderous  confoosion. 

"Doc,'  continyoos  Gooseberry,  after  gulpin'  down  a 
teaspoonful  of  Old  Jordan,  'I  leaves  you  to  imagin'  my 
feelin's.  My  alarm  is  without  a  fence.  I'd  seen  one 
cartridge  go  off;  thar  I  be,  swingin'  twenty-five  feet  above 
a  still  heavier  charge,  awaitin'  eternity,  while  them 
fiends  in  hooman  form  are  fightin'  out  some  infamous 
feud  of  their  own.  I  cannot  deescribe  my  agony!  The 

221 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

foose  is  spittin'  fire  like  forty  dragons!  The  shaft  is 
choked  with  smoke!  Thar  am  I,  frantic,  ha'r-hung, 
he'pless  above  annihilation,  an*  them  blood-hungry 
monsters  bootcherin'  one  another  aloft!  Either  from 
the  smoke  or  the  excitement,  I  faints  away. 

"'On  comin'  to,.  I  finds  myse'f  outside  on  the  grass, 
while  Talky  an'  the  disrepootable  Chicken  is  lookin*  on 
an*  laughin'  themselves  out  o'  one  fit  into  another  over 
the  joke.  Thar  had  been  no  shot  placed  in  the  hole; 
the  heartless  Talky  palms  it,  an*  carries  it  with  him  to 
the  surface.  Thar's  nothin'  but  the  wet  clay  an*  the 
foose. 

"'At  my  nacheral  inquiry,  made  in  tones  as  weak  as 
water,  as  to  what  it  all  means,  them  miscreants  breaks 
out  laughin'  afresh,  an'  allows  it's  part  of  the  preescribed 
'niation  of  a  tenderfoot. 

"'"It'll  give  you  nerve!"  says  Talky.  "Sech  plays  is 
calk'lated  to  put  heart  into  you,  an'  do  you  good." 

"'After  which,  him  an'  Chicken  falls  to  renooed 
laughter,  said  mirth,  an'  their  asshorance  that  the  drinks 
is  on  me,  bein'  all  the  reedress  I  gets/ 

"In  Arizona  every  gent  is  the  sole  jedge  of  his  own 
jests;  wharf  ore,  concernin'  them  adventures  of  Goose 
berry,  no  public  steps  is  took.  Still,  when  Texas  Thomp 
son  advises  that  sufferer  to  frame  himse'f  up  with  a 
shot-gun,  an*  down  an'  bury  both  Talky  an'  Chicken  in 
the  Anna-ann  Marie,  an'  even  goes  so  far  as  to  borry  a 
fowlin'  piece  from  the  Wells-Fargo  people,  wharwith 
to  make  the  play,  the  idee  finds  tacit  approval. 

"Nothin'  comes  of  it,  however;  Gooseberry  urgin' 
222 


THE  JEST  OF  TALKY  JONES 

that  sheddin'  blood  is  reepugnant  to  his  nacher.  He 
declares  he'll  seek  other  avenoos  of  revenge. 

"'For  vengeance  I  shall  have!'  says  he. 

"  Meanwhile,  as  evincin'  how  he's  shore  been  harrowed 
up  a  lot,  Gooseberry's  ha'r  turns  white  as  milk. 

"Talky  exults  inordinate  in  them  crooelties  he  levels  at 
Gooseberry;  far  from  feelin'  repentance,  he  allows  it's  the 
hunkiest  joke  he  ever  pulls  off.  He  laughs  every  time  it 
crosses  his  mem'ry;  an'  he  buys  gallons  an'  gallons  of  rum, 
keepin'  his  appreciation  tharof  at  featheredge.  Black 
Jack  himse'f  admits  that  a  few  more  sech  joyous  out- 
bursts'll  be  the  makin'  of  the  Red  Light." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   CONFUSION   OF  TALKY 

WHO'S  that  poet  sharp  who  says  laughter  goes 
before  tears,  an*  sunshine  preecedes  a  shower 
a  heap.  Whatever's  his  name  an'  brand,  I'm 
yere  to  remark  he  makes  a  center  shot.  Right  while  he's 
consoomin'  rum  an'  nursin'  his  ongodly  glee,  Fate  is 
heatin'  the  reetributive  pitch  for  Talky  in  manners  on- 
foreseen. 

"Talky's  Denver  daughter  comes  dancin'  in;  which 
the  advent  of  that  damsel  may  be  regyarded  as  the  be- 
ginnin'  of  the  return  play.  This  Anna-ann  Marie  girl 
is  a  comely,  corn-fed  maiden,  an*  the  credit'blest  thing 
about  Talky  of  which  any  of  us  ever  hears.  Seein'  she's 
the  only  soul  in  camp  onto  whom  he  ain't  onloaded  the 
tale,  Talky  straightway  tells  her  of  the  jest  he  plays  on 
Gooseberry. 

"Anna-ann  Marie  looks  serious  an'  plenty  shocked. 

"'Why,  paw!  she  says;  'however  could  you-all  be  that 
callous!' 

"'Callous!'  retorts  Talky,  all  puffed  up  with  vanity. 
'Child,  you're  Pap  ain't  callous,  he's  jest  cunnin' 
— cunnin'  as  a  pet  coyote.'  Then  he  p'ints  across 
the  street  to  Gooseberry,  where  that  invalid's  pot- 
terin'  about  on  two  canes,  him  bein'  as  yet  all  on- 

224 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TALKY 

strung.  'See  them  ha'rs  the  color  of  snow  ?  I  regyards 
that  milk-white  top-knot  as  a  triboote  to  my  powers  as 
a  wag.' 

"'Don't  he  look  interestin' ? '  says  Anna-ann  Marie. 
'Them  snowy  locks  shore  makes  him  the  image  of  Monte 
Cristo!' 

"  Of  course  no  one  saveys  who  this  yere  Monte  Cristo 
is,  leastwise  no  one  only  Peets,  but  none  of  us  is  that 
blinded  we  can't  read  a  kind  of  tenderness  in  the  glances 
of  Anna-ann  Marie.  As  she  gazes  across  at  Gooseberry, 
cripplin'  'round  on  his  two  sticks,  her  eyes  lights  softly 
up  like  the  windows  of  a  hurdy-gurdy  on  the  evenin'  of  a 
fandango.  Talky  is  that  besotted  he  don't  notice;  but 
the  rest  of  us  shakes  our  heads  an'  smiles.  Already  we 
perceives,  that  on  the  principle  of  him  laughin'  best  who 
laughs  last,  affairs  may  yet  manage  themselves  so  as  to 
give  Gooseberry  the  high  ground. 

"That  evenin',  in  the  O.  K.  dinin'-room,  Anna-ann 
Marie  gets  acquainted  with  Gooseberry,  Missis  Rucker 
floor-managin'. 

"'Seem'  you-all  folks,'  says  Missis  Rucker,  who's  a 
stickler  for  the  propri'ties, — 'seem'  you-all  folks  is  goin' 
to  be  more  or  less  elbow  to  elbow  over  your  chili-con- 
carne,  you  shore'll  feel  freer  that  a-way  if  you  knows  each 
others  names.  Miss  Jones,  Mister  Dusenberry.  Goose 
berry,  this  yere's  Talky 's  darter,  Anna-ann  Marie.' 

"Events  commences  to  pile  up.  Between  Anna-ann 
Marie  an'  Gooseberry,  it's  a  case  of  mootual  admira 
tion  from  the  jump;  they  simply  falls  together  like  a 
shock  of  oats.  An',  when  you  reflects  how  she's  plumb 

225 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

idle,  while  he's  broke  in  his  nerve  an'  honin'  for  sympathy, 
it's  all  easy  to  onderstand. 

"Also,  Anna-ann  Marie  begins  to  broaden  her  visitin' 
list.  In  the  days  which  ensoos,  when  she  ain't  h'antin' 
amic'bly  about  with  Gooseberry,  she  an*  Faro  Nell  is 
chatterin'  away  together  as  sociable  as  bloo  jays.  Them 
maidens  gets  as  thick  as  thieves. 

"That  thar  is  vis'ble  feachures  to  the  'comedy' — as 
Peets  calls  it — bein'  played  before  our  eyes,  finds  proof 
in  a  reemark  of  Boggs.  He's  talkin'  to  Tutt: 

"Dave/  he  says,  'I  leaves  it  to  you,  as  a  married  man, 
if  that  Anna-ann  Marie  an'  Gooseberry  ain't  fallin'  into 
love!' 

"'Sech,'  responds  Tutt,  'is  the  onbiased  findin'  of  my 
wife,  Tucson  Jennie;  an',  in  them  honied  matters  of  the 
heart,  Jen  never  fails  of  locatin'  every  bee-tree  in  the 
woods.' 

"'Well,'  says  Boggs,  'I  argues  as  much  from  Goose 
berry  goin'  about  constant,  grinnin'  eediotic.  With 
nothin'  whatever  to  grin  at,  he'll  plant  himse'f  for  hours 
an'  grin  at  a  mark.  I  calls  Doc  Peets'  attention  to  it, 
thinkin'  Gooseberry's  intellects  has  pulled  their  picket 
pin  an'  he's  goin'  locoed.  "  It's  only  bliss,"  says  the  Doc. 
"Gooseberry's  in  love."3 

'"Which  the  Doc  ought  to  know,'  responds  Tutt. 
'If  thar's  a  gent  in  Arizona,  upholstered  mental  to  read 
every  sign  an'  signal  smoke  of  hooman  sentiment,  it's 
Doc  Peets.' 

"  Affairs  swings  along  in  this  way  most  a  month,  Anna- 
ann  Marie  an'  Gooseberry  sunshinin'  'round  one  an- 

226 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TALKY 

other,  an'  Anna-ann  an'  Faro  Nell  colloguin'  among 
themselves  girl  fashion.  No;  Talky  don't  wake  up. 
Days  he's  down  in  the  shaft ;  evenin's  he's  too  busy  cel'- 
bratin'  that  jest  of  his,  which  so  triumphantly  skeers  up 
Gooseberry. 

"One  day  Faro  Nell,  Anna-ann  Marie  an'  Goose 
berry  convenes  speshul,  an'  has  a  powwow.  No  one 
considers  it  as  more'n  the  yoosual  gossip  of  yearlin's, 
ontil  Faro  Nell  skips  over  to  the  Red  Light  to  see 
Cherokee. 

" '  About  you  an'  me  bein'  partners  that  a-way  ? '  says 
Faro  Nell,  like  she's  askin'  a  question. 

"' Shore!'  says  Cherokee,  in  the  tones  of  a  gent  who 
agrees  to  everything  in  advance. 

"'Then  paw  over  that  Anna-ann  Marie  stock,'  says 
Faro  Nell.  'Yereafter  it's  to  be  mine  entire.' 

"' Shore!'  says  Cherokee;  an',  takin'  the  stock  from 
the  drawer  of  his  faro  table,  he  tosses  her  the  bundle. 

"Two  minutes  later  Nell  an'  the  stock  is  back  with 
Anna-ann  Marie  an'  Gooseberry,  an'  that  convention 
of  three  is  resoomed. 

"The  followin'  day  but  one,  Nell  with  Anna-ann  Marie 
an'  Tucson  Jennie  goes  headin'  for  Tucson.  The  next 
day  Gooseberry,  lookin*  more  ecstatically  eediotic  than 
common,  lines  out  sim'lar. 

"'Doc,'  says  Enright,  glancin*  up  at  Peets  from  his 
licker  mighty  benignant,  'this  yere's  gettin'  some  intri 
cate,  no?' 

"'If  it  ain't  I'll  j'ine  the  church!'  says  Peets,  plenty 
emphatic. 

227 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'My  wife  Jen  rides  herd  on  the  racket  as  a  chapper 
oney,'  observes  Tutt,  kind  o'  pompous. 

" '  Chapperoney ! '  exclaims  Boggs.  '  Which  I  reckoned 
I'm  onto  all  the  brands  on  the  lingual  range,  but  that's 
one  I  can't  read/ 

"'Dan/  retorts  Tutt,  a  heap  spleenetic,  'how  often 
does  I  tell  you  you  ought  to  take  a  term  or  two  at  night 
school  ?  A  chapperoney,  in  any  social  break,  is  same  as 
a  look-out  or  case-keeper  in  farobank.  She  tabs  the 
kyards  as  they  comes  out,  sees  to  it  that  all  bets  is  paid, 
an*  speshully  she's  watchful  that  folks,  crim'nally  in 
clined  an'  surreptitious,  don't  get  away  with  no  sleepers.' 

"Boggs  looks  dazed,  an'  turns  implorin'ly  to  Texas 
Thompson.  Texas  reepulses  him  a  heap  f'rocious. 

' ' Don't  say  nothin'  to  me! '  cries  Texas.  '  As  one  who 
has  suffered  by  wedlock,  I  refooses  to  converse  on  any 
married-people  topics.' 

"Married-people  topics!'  repeats  Boggs,  more  an' 
more  fogged  up.  'Texas,  either  me  or  you  or  some 
gent  else  is  gettin'  batty.' 

"Talky  shows  in  the  door  jest  then,  an'  nothin'  more 
is  said. 

"'Finest  girl  in  the  world,  that  Anna-ann  Marie!' 
says  Talky  presently,  shovin'  the  bottle.  'She  sees  a 
good  deal  of  s'ciety  in  Denver,  an'  Wolfville  strikes  her 
as  a  trifle  slow  I  s'ppose.  Yearnin'  for  meetropolitan 
action  that  a-way,  she  allows  she'll  go  squanderin'  over 
to  Tucson.  But  she'll  be  back  ag'in,  gents,  when  she's 
got  her  play-spell  out.  An'  by  the  way,  that  Anna-ann 
Marie  claim  of  mine  is  goin'  to  be  the  min'ral  marvel  of 

228 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TALKY 

Cochise  county.  From  the  ore  me  an'  Chicken  on- 
covers  to-day,  the  valyoo  of  that  property'll  need  seven 
figures  to  express  it.  Gents,  take  a  drink  on  the  Anna- 
ann  Marie.  Barkeep,  you  hears  my  gentle  voice!' 

"  Jack  Moore  has  been  tackin'  up  a  notice  on  the  Red 
Light  door,  usin'  the  butt  of  his  gun  for  a  tack-hammer. 
As  Talky  alloods  to  the  Anna-ann  Marie,  Moore  sings 
out  to  him: 

"'Speakin'  of  that  prospect  of  yours,  Talky;  yere's  a 
small  jimcrow  publication  which  ought  to  rivet  your 
attention.' 

"'Whatever  is  it?'  asks  Talky,  goin'  to  read  the 
writin',  glass  in  hand. 

"'Which  it  sounds  to  onprejewdiced  y'ears,'  says 
Jack,  'like  a  call  for  a  annyooal  meetin'  of  the  stock 
holders.' 

"Thar  it  is,  in  frigid  black  an'  white,  summonin'  a 
meetin'  of  the  share-holders  of  the  Anna-ann  Marie 
mine,  to  be  held  in  the  wareroom  of  the  New  York  Store 
two  days  away. 

"'Bull  snakes  an'  blizzards!'  says  Talky,  as  he  reads 
it;  'whatever  does  this  portend?' 

"Talky  heads  for  Cherokee,  an'  deemands  light. 

"'I'm  some  in  the  dark  myse'f,'  says  Cherokee.  'But 
of  course,  Talky,  you  knows  that  note  for  the  five  thou 
sand  is  overdoo  an'  onpaid  two  weeks?' 

"'What  of  it?'  returns  Talky.  'You-all  don't  aim 
to  t'ar  into  me  like  a  iron-hearted  yoosurer,  do  you,  an' 
swipe  all  that  Anna-ann  Marie  stock?  Don't  tell  me 
you're  that  rapacious;  I  won't  believe  it.' 

229 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'Me  rapacious?'  replies  Cherokee,  meek  as  Mexican 
sheep.  'Personal,  I've  been  backed  plumb  out  o'  the 
play.  It's  Nell  who's  your  reemorseless  cred'tor.  As 
to  what  is  that  young  business  lady's  intentions,  all  I 
knows  is  I  hears  her  say  she's  out  to  perpetrate  a  huge 
jest  on  you-all,  with  which  you — as  a  born  wit — would 
be  deelighted  to  a  frazzle.' 

"Talky  turns  white  an'  red  an'  green  an'  bloo,  an'  then 
settles  down  to  yellow. 

'"This  yere's  a  trap!'  he  shouts. 

"Cherokee  represses  Talky  with  upraised  palm. 
Then  he  searches  out  a  9-inch  bowie  from  some'ers 
back  of  his  neck,  an'  sort  o'  dictates  at  Talky  with  the 
p'int. 

'"I  don't  want  to  discourage  you,'  says  Cherokee, 
fixin'  Talky  with  a  eye  as  gray  an'  keen  as  the  bowie  he's 
toyin'  with,  'but  before  you  romances  along  too  far,  it's 
right  you  should  be  warned.  It's  a  voylation  of  the 
Wolfville  rooles  to  go  animadvertin'  on  Nell.  Be  proo- 
dent,  tharfore;  a  breath  ag'in  Nell  means  the  loss  of 
your  y'ears.' 

"Talky,  speakin'  conversational,  begins  to  back  like 
an  overbitted  pony.  That  comb'nation  of  gray  eye  an' 
gray  bowie  has  him  buffaloed. 

"He  gasps  out:    'Shorely  you'll  control  her?' 

" '  Control  Nell  ? '  an'  Cherokee  smiles  a  wise  smile  an' 
shakes  his  head.  'Talky,  you  asks  the  clay  to  control  the 
potter.  Nell's  a  star,  sky-born  an'  imperial;  an'  as  sech 
loominary  it  don't  reequire  no  astronomer  to  onderstand 
she's  plumb  above  control.' 

230 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TALKY 

"Talky,  findin'  he's  up  ag'inst  it  with  Cherokee,  goes 
totterin'  back  to  that  notice,  an'  re-reads  the  same. 

"'I  shall  refoose  to  attend/  says  Talky,  after  a  pause. 
'Itain't  legal  none;  I'll  go  in  the  air,  take  to  buck-jumpin/ 
an*  deecline  to  lend  my  presence  to  sech  outrages  on 
property  rights/ 

"'You  won't  attend  none?'  says  Jack  Moore,  mighty 
grim.  'You'll  attend,  you  bet,  or  it'll  become  my  dooty, 
as  kettle  tender  for  the  stranglers,  to  make  you  some 
hard  to  find.' 

"That  social  party  comes  rummagin'  along  back  from 
Tucson,  an'  in  doo  time  the  annyooal  meetin'  of  the 
share-holders  of  the  Anna-ann  Marie  gets  together.  It's 
certainly  a  most  amazin'  round-up.  That  stock's  been 
shuffled  an'  cut  an'  dealt,  an'  sent  cirkyoolatin'  all  about 
the  board,  ontil  mighty  near  every -gent  in  camp — to  say 
nothin'  of  Tucson  Jennie,  Missis  Rucker  an'  Faro  Nell 
— has  ten  shares  each.  As  for  that  Gooseberry,  he 
bursts  on  mankind  as  the  pride-swollen  an'  plootocratic 
possessor  of  nine  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ten  shares, 
bein'  what's  left.  Every  share-holder  is  present,  solemn 
as  prairie  dogs — all  except  Black  Jack,  who  depyootizes 
Gooseberry  to  be  his  proxy. 

"I  don't  see  what  I'm  doin'  yere/  says  Talky,  sneerin* 
bitterly,  when  the  lay  of  the  land  is  made  plain  to  him; 
'I  ain't  got  no  stock.' 

"'All  the  same/  breaks  in  Boggs,  'you're  goin'  to  stay 
a  whole  lot.  We  needs  your  counsel.  You've  been 
delvin'  in  our  mine  practical,  an'  we-all  stock-holders 
wants  a  report  as  to  the  condition  of  our  property/ 

231 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'That's  whatever!'  chimes  in  Texas  Thompson. 
'An*  see  that  said  reeport  is  plenty  succinct;  we'll  shore 
resent  bein'  hoodwinked.' 

"'Merely  in  a  mood  of  idle  cur'osity,'  observes  Talky, 
waxin'  sarkastic,  'I'd  like  for  to  ask  a  cotton-headed 
numbskull  yere,  who's  called  Gooseberry,  how  he  comes 
to  own  the  heft  of  the  Anna-ann  Marie?  Hopin'  his 
feeble  fackulties  is  equal  to  a  answer,  I  r'ars  back  an' 
waits  for  his  replies.' 

"'Which  I  pays  some'ers  'round  the  exorb'tant  sum 
of  five  thousand  dollars  for  it,'  says  Gooseberry,  'the 
same  leavin'  quite  a  hole  in  my  patrimonial  pile.  An' 
now  fellow  share-holders,'  he  goes  on,  wavin'  his  hand 
p'litely  about  the  room,  'with  your  consent  I'll  ask  my 
peevish  interlocyooter  concernin'  matters  of  more  per 
sonal  sort.  Would  you,  Mister  Jones' — yere  he  dom'n- 
ates  at  Talky  with  his  fore-finger — 'assoomin'  me  to 
crave  sech  boons,  consent  to  my  marryin'  your  daughter 
in  bonds  of  holy  matr'mony  ? ' 

"As  Gooseberry  gets  off  this  bluff,  he  gazes  fondly 
down  on  Anna-ann  Marie,  where  she's  tucked  herse'f 
in  between  Faro  Nell  an'  Missis  Rucker,  demure  as  a 
mountain  quail. 

"'You  marry  my  daughter!'  shouts  Talky  in  scorn. 
'A  snow-capped  dolt  talk  of  clamberin'  to  the  heights 
of  becomin'  my  son-in-law!  I'd  sooner  see  Anna-ann 
Marie  the  spouse  of  a  Mexican  I ' 

"Why,  Paw!'  says  Anna-ann  Marie,  reproachful. 

"'What  do  I  tell  you!'  exclaims  Gooseberry,  lookin' 
triumphant  at  Faro  Nell  an'  Anna-ann  Marie.  'Didn't 

232 


THE  CONTUSION  OF  TALKY 

I  have  this  yere  old  serpent  guessed  out  right?'  Then, 
comin'  back  to  Talky  ag'in:  'So  shore  be  we  of  what's 
your  hellish  p'sition  touchin*  our  happiness,  that  me  an* 
Anna-ann  Marie  forestalls  refoosal  by  takin'  each  other 
for  better  an'  for  worse  two  days  back  in  Tucson.  Do 
you-all  see  this  ? '  an'  Gooseberry  pats  his  frosty  skelp- 
locks.  '  Which  I  vows  I'll  have  a  vengeance  ag'in  you,  an' 
now  I've  got  it.' 

"'Vengeance!'  whispers  Texas  Thompson  to  Boggs. 
'He  seizes  on  the  hymeenial  torch,  sets  fire  to  his 
final  chance  of  happiness  in  this  life,  an*  calls  it  vengeance! 
Dan,  this  Gooseberry's  a  howlin'  eediot;  Peets  ought  to 
procoor  a  writ  de  loonatico  an'  lock  him  up.' 

"'Do  you-all  mean,'  demands  Talky,  glarin*  at  Goose 
berry,  'that  you  two  is  husband  an'  wife?' 

'"That's  what  the  sky  pilot  tells  us,'  returns  Goose 
berry;  'an'  I  gives  him  the  price  of  a  stack  of  bloos  for 
the  information.  Likewise  these  excellent  ladies' — 
p'intin'  to  Nell  an'  Tucson  Jennie — 'is  thar,  backin'  the 
play  in  person;  an',  while  they're  blinded  by  tears  at  the 
time,  I  makes  no  doubt  they  witnesses  enough  to  guar 
antee  the  trooth  of  what  I  states.' 

"They're  shore  wedded,'  puts  in  Tucson  Jennie,  'or 
I'm  no  jedge  of  nuptials.  One  thing  though/  an'  Jennie 
looks  at  Missis  Rucker,  who  snorts  her  endorsements,  'I 
insists  on  that  preacher  sharp  leavin*  out  "obey".' 

''Gents,'  says  Talky,  appealin'  'round  the  room 
mighty  abject,  'you've  heard  what  this  pinhead  Goose 
berry  says.  The  mud-blooded  creature  is  actchooly  my 
son-in-law!  I  could  have  stood  up  ag'in  bankruptcy, 
l«  233 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

but  I  wilts  before  disgrace.  Proceed,  gents;  pronounce 
my  final  doom.' 

"'Let  me  pronounce  it/  says  Gooseberry;  'I  owes  him 
that  much  for  shatterin'  my  constitootion,  an'  changin' 
my  auburn  locks  to  linen  in  the  springtime  of  my  days. 
Mister  Jones,  me  an'  my  wife,  nee  your  daughter  Anna- 
ann  Marie,  figgers  by  way  of  weddin'  trip  on  startin' 
back  tomorry  to  see  my  folks.  They'll  dote  on  Anna- 
ann  Marie,  my  folks  will!  My  idee  in  takin'  in  these 
sundry  an'  var'ous  share-holders  whom  you  sees  assem 
bled,  is  that  doorin'  our  absence,  an'  to  protect  their 
own  interests,  they'll  take  measures  to  keep  you  hard  at 
work  deevelopin'  the  Anna-ann  Marie.  Of  course  you'll 
get  wages;  which  the  same  I  leaves  my  fellow  share 
holders  to  fix.' 

"'But  I  won't  reemain  none!'  breaks  in  Talky,  plenty 
veheement. 

'"  You'll  stay,'  retorts  Boggs,  'if  we  has  to  hobble  you. 
Do  you  reckon  you're  goin'  to  abandon  our  property  to 
deestruction,  jest  to  satisfy  a  pique?' 

"'You-all  may  hold  me  captive,'  returns  Talky,  dark 
an'  sullen;  'but  I  won't  do  a  lick  of  work.  I  informs 
you  savages  right  yere  that  I'm  not  goin' -to  be  first 
robbed  an'  then  enslaved.' 

"'Won't  work?'  speaks  up  Missis  Rucker,  as  hard  an' 
raspin'  as  film*  saws.  'You  won't  be  fed  no  grub  then.' 

" '  Come,  Talky,'  observes  Enright,  his  voice  an'  man 
ner  kindly,  for  he's  beginnin'  to  feel  sorry  about  Talky's 
troubles;  'cheer  up!  This  yere  sityooation  ain't  so  rock- 
ribbed!  I  wouldn't  let  it  sour  my  nacheral  feelin's! 

234 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TALKY 

A  sport  of  your  onyoosual  sense  of  yoomer  ought  to  see 
its  comic  side.  Besides,  it's  cattle  to  catbirds  your  son- 
in-law,  Gooseberry,  '11  split  up  the  Anna-ann  Marie  with 
you,  when  him  an'  his  bloomin'  bride  returns.' 

"  '  I  don't  want  to  seem  no  niggard,'  observes  Gooseberry, 
'  but  permit  me  to  say  I  shall  not  commence  my  wedded 
life  by  enrichin'  my  wife's  parent  gratis.  I'll  go  this  far, 
however:  When  I  comes  trackin'  in  from  my  trip  like  a 
giant  reefreshed,  if  the  old  man's  been  labor'ous  an' 
faithful,  I'll  let  him  into  the  Anna-ann  Marie,  mod'rate, 
on  the  ground  floor.' 

"'Be  you,  too,  a  stock-holder?'  asks  Talky  sadly,  of 
his  daughter  Anna-ann  Marie. 

"'Why  yes,  Paw,'  she  returns.  'My  husband, 
Dobson  Clay  Dusenberry,  endows  me  with  a  even  half  of 
them  nine  thousand-odd  shares  at  •  the  altar.  But 
certainly,  as  a  dootiful  he'pmeet  I  allows  Dobby  dear  to 
represent.  You  knows  the  sentiment,  Paw: 

"'Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
hearts  that  vote  as  one.' 


"It's  a  week  later,  an'  thar's  the  afternoon  lull  in  the 
Red  Light. 

"Don't  your  figger,  Nell,'  asks  Cherokee,  'that  after 
all  you  plays  it  some  low  on  Talky,  equippin'  that  son-in- 
law  Gooseberry  to  round  on  him  an'  run  over  him  like 
he  does?  Which  pore  Talky  ain't  been  the  same  man 
since;  it's  left  his  sens'bilities  all  spraddled  out.' 

"'Your  mean  old  Talky  party  gets  nothin'  but  what's 
comin'  to  him,'  returns  Faro  Nell.  'That  Gooseberry 

235 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

boy's  entitled  to  reparations  for  what  Talky  makes  him 
suffer;  tharfore  I  advises  an'  assists  him  in  a  Christian  way. 
Then  see  how  plumb  happy  it  makes  him  an'  Anna-ann 
Marie!  As  for  your  mis'rable  Talky,  I'll  wager  them 
ten  shares  I  reetains,  that  the  next  time  he  goes  p'intin' 
out  to  be  funny  an'  concoct  a  joke,  he'll  shore  play  said 
witticism  with  a  copper  on.' " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SOAP  SUDS  SAL 

WEDLOCK  that  a-way,"  remarked  my  vener 
able  friend,  replacing  his  glass  on  the  table — 
the  night  was  raw  and  damp — "wedlock  that 
a-way  as  I  shows  you  frequent  comes  mighty  near 
amountin'  to  a  mania  with  Doc  Peets;  not  for  himse'f  of 
course,  but  other  people.  It  looks  like  he  can't  see  a 
lady  single  a  minute  without  tryin'  to  saw  her  off  on  some 
ongyarded  gent,  him  holdin'  wedlock  to  be  the  only 
legitimate  means  of  perpetchooatin'  the  race. 

"For  myse'f,  while  I  sees  much  in  said  latter  bluff 
to  recommend  it,  an'  give  it  dignity  as  argyooment,  I  re- 
fooses  to  follow  Peets  when  he  talks  of  makin'  marriage 
compuls'ry. 

"'Yes  sir/  says  Peets,  bein'  at  the  time  hooked  up  in 
heated  pow-wow  with  Texas  Thompson,  who  holds 
other  views — 'yes  sir;  if  I  was  business  manager  for  the 
public,  I'd  offer  a  bounty  for  the  skelps  of  bachelors, 
same  as  wolves.  Which  every  bachelor  is  a  suspect, 
like  a  fox  in  a  barnyard,  an',  if  necessary  to  arouse  his 
sense  of  dooty,  I'd  shore  employ  drastic  means.' 

"'But  Doc,'  Texas  protests,  'when  you  takes  to 
tossin'  off  threats  about  onmarried  gents,  that  a-way, 
you  goes  too  far.  Plungin'  along  in  this  yere  fashion, 

237 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

bridleless  an'  onhobbled,  whatever's  to  become  of  them 
constitootional  tenets  concernin'  life,  liberty  an'  the  pur- 
soot  of  happiness?' 

"'Liberty!'  exclaims  Peets.  'You-all  tarrapins  must 
n't  make  the  error  of  runnin'  liberty  into  license.  No 
gent  is  at  liberty  to  become  a  public  menace;  an'  sech, 
I  asserts  onhesitatin',  bachelors  to  be.  Which  you  speaks 
of  the  mar'tal  condition,  Texas,  as  if  it's  chains  an*  bond 
age!  Who,  I  asks,  is  freer  than  a  married  man?' 

:"Sech  her'sies,  Doc,'  replies  Texas,  waxin'  petyoolant, 
'almost  inclines  me  to  lapse  into  one  of  them  disrepoot- 
able  exhibitions  known  as  a  weepin'  drunk.  Ladies  is 
by  nacher  despots;  wedlock's  only  another  name  for 
slavery;  they  calls  'em  husbands,  but  they're  reely 
serfs.' 

'"Dave  Tutt  ain't  no  serf,'  says  Boggs,  cuttin'  in  on 
the  dispoote;  'an'  he's  shore  married  to  Tucson  Jennie 
a  whole  lot.  Dave's  a  husband,  but  jest  the  same  you 
bet!  he's  boss  of  his  ranch.' 

"'Dan,'  retorts  Texas,  turnin'  on  Boggs  some  weary, 
'  in  them  oncalled  for  outbursts,  you  merely  demonstrates 
your  ignorance.  Which  you'd  better  take  a  good  hard 
look  at  Dave.  After  you  studies  him  awhile,  you'll  notice 
he  ain't  boss  none,  he  simply  has  lots  to  say.' 

'"To  be  shore,'  says  Peets,  comin'  to  the  conversational 
front  ag'in,  'when  I  announces  that  I  favors  a  bounty 
for  bachelors'  skelps,  it's  to  be  onderstood  thar's  exemp 
tions.  Medicine  sharps,  like  me,  ought  not  to  be  per 
mitted  to  marry,  belongin'  to  the  public,  as  I  yeretofore 
explains.  Then  thar  should  be  a  age-limit,  which  lets 

238 


SOAP  SUDS  SAL 

out  folks  similar  to  Enright.  Also,  in  instances  like  yours, 
Texas,  when  a  gent  has  been  hon'rably  mustered  out  by  a 
competent  triboonal,  same  as  in  them  Laredo  divorce 
proceedings — I'd  bar  sech  folks.  Thar,  however,  I 
draws  the  line.  When  I  tracks  up  on  some  sprightly 
party  like  Dan  yere,  it'ud  become  a  case  of  "  Die  dog  or 
eat  the  hatchet!"  I'd  shore  make  that  single-footer 
get  a  wife,  or  get  plumb  off  the  y 'earth/ 

"'All  the  same, Doc/  says  Texas,  sullen  an*  resentful, 
'onderstand  me  as  stringin'  my  bets  the  other  way.  I 
sees  nothin*  in  your  claims;  none  whatever!  Wharin 
does  a  married  gent  lay  over  a  gent  who  ain't  ? ' 

"'Wharin?'  repeats  Peets,  never  pinchin'  down  a 
chip.  'Why,  a  married  gent's  got  a  bachelor  skinned 
forty  ways  from  the  jack!  As  I  urges  former,  a  single 
gent  is  like  a  statchoo  without  a  ped'stal;  he  needs  a 
wife  to  elevate  him,  an'  keep  him  morally  perpendicyoolar. 
Not,'  goes  on  Peets,  'that  I  would  have  you  dedooce, 
Texas,  anythin'  derog'tory  to  yourse'f  from  my  remarks, 
which  are  to  be  took  in  the  abstract.  As  to  yourse'f, 
personal,  I  entertains  the  same  profound  respects  I  does 
for  Dave.  Jest  as  I  cel'brates  Dave  as  a  hero,  so  I 
rev'rences  you  as  a  martyr  to  wedlock.  Both  is  entitled 
to  honor;  for  a  hero  is  but  a  martyr  who  succeeds,  while 
a  martyr  is  only  a  hero  who  fails.' 

"Doc,'  cries  Boggs,  evincin'  high  excitement,  an' 
graspin'  Peets  by  the  hand  mighty  fervent,  'while  I 
won't  say  I  wholly  seizes  your  meanin',  I'm  yere  to  de- 
clar*  them  sent'ments  plumb  corruscatin'!' 

"Which    I    don't    myse'f   wonder   at    Boggs.     Peets 

239 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

shore  is  the  most  gifted  sharp  whoever  spreads  his  blan 
kets  in  Arizona. 

"While  my  own  feelin's,"  continued  the  old  gentleman, 
replenishing  his  glass,  "don't  keep  exyooberant  pace 
with  Peets  concernin'  matrimony,  neither  be  I  sech  a 
pessimist  as  Texas.  Of  course,  I  ain't  married  none 
myse'f,  an*  never  is;  still  I  thinks  I  makes  cl'ar  to  you 
yeretofore  how  it  shouldn't  be  charged  ag'inst  me  none 
as  a  dir'liction.  No  gent  can  be  more  sincere  than  me, 
in  them  sev'ral  footile  attempts  I  makes  to  round  myse'f 
up  a  he'pmeet.  But  each  time,  as  says  the  actor  sport 
over  to  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House,  'thar's  another 
Richmond  in  the  field/  an*  it  certainly  looks  like  I  ain't 
speedy  enough  for  competitions.  After  my  noomerous 
failures,  I  decides  that  mebby  if  I  could  only  cross  up  with 
some  lady  who  ain't  seen  no  gent  for  a  year  I  might  in  the 
course  of  another  gentless  year  or  two  cajole  her,  an' 
succeed  in  winnin*  out  her  heart.  However,  ree'lizin' 
that  ladies  answerin*  that  lonesome  description  is  bound 
to  be  plumb  hard  to  find,  I  never  makes  no  pecooliar 
effort  to  cut  the  trail  of  any  sech  exotic,  but  lets  life  go  as 
it  lays. 

"  It's  mighty  mortifyin',  too,  when  you  comes  to  think 
of  it,  an*  perhaps  it's  in  a  onconscious  effort  to  rescoo 
my  vanity  that  a- way,  I  long  ago  adopts  a  belief  that  get- 
tin'  married,  like  winnin*  at  farobank,  involves  no 
question  of  personal  merit,  but  only  luck.  Thar's  old 
Missis  Barndollar,  back  in  Tennessee  when  I'm  a 
yearlin':  Sis  Barndollar's  as  bitter  as  a  pignut  an*  got 
a  face  like  one;  an'  yet  she  ups  an*  accyoomulates 

240 


SOAP  SUDS  SAL 

seriatem — as  Peets  would  say — seven  husbands.  It  looks 
like  folks  simply  gets  into  the  habit  of  marryin'  Sis  Barn- 
dollar!  She  goes  troopin'  to  the  altar  so  often  she  w'ars 
a  path! 

"Seven  times,  mind  you!  for  I  counts  them  licenses 
myse'f,  framed  an'  hangin'  on  the  wall.  She  c'llects 
an'  keeps  'em  same  as  a  Injun  does  skelps.  The  other 
six  husbands  is  all  planted  in  a  row,  in  the  Pine  Knot 
graveyard  by  the  'Possum  Trot;  an'  final  they  adds 
number  seven  to  the  list.  Sis  Barndollar  cashes  in  her- 
se'f  shortly  after,  an'  they  gives  her  the  right  of  the  line. 
It's  only  jestice  they  should.  When  the  last  trump 
sounds  an'  graves  gives  up  their  dead,  thar'll  be  Sis 
Barndollar  at  the  head  of  her  own  private  procession, 
ready  to  lead  them  seven  on  high  as  yeretofore 
below. 

"If  I'm  called  on  for  a  opinion,  I  takes  it  Peets  an' 
Texas  is  both  of  'em  part  right  an'  part  wrong.  Ladies, 
as  wives,  breaks  about  even.  They're  like  the  kyards 
in  a  deal-box;  no  matter  how  they're  riffled  an'  cut,  as 
many  falls  to  lose  as  falls  to  win.  So  troo  is  this  that  the 
preacher  sharp,  when  tyin'  'em  together  as  husband  an' 
wife,  always  hedges  the  play  by  sayin'  they  'takes  each 
other  for  better  or  for  worse.'  An'  I'm  free  to  observe, 
sech  holdouts  is  jest'fiable,  an'  but  commonest  proodence. 

"Wedlock,  from  the  gent's  standp'int,  ain't  always 
a  onmixed  vict'ry.  Avoidin'  any  ref'rence  to  Missis 
Rucker — for  which  esteemable  lady  I  owns  the  utmost 
regyard,  an'  whose  horns  by  any  brash  remarks  I  should 
shore  regret  to  draw  my  way — let  me,  as  calk'lated  to 

241 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

sustain  my  contentions,  alloode  briefly  to  Soap  Suds  Sal. 
Thar's  a  lady  ag'inst  whom  nothin'  can  be  uttered.  An' 
yet  this  is  what  comes  off. 

"Soap  Suds  Sal  ties  down  in  bonds  of  matrimony  a 
boisterous  young  cow-puncher,  one  Riley  Brooks.  When 
she  ropes  him,  an'  drags  him  up  to  be  branded  marital, 
Riley's  of  as  volatile  an*  effervescent  a  temperament  as 
any  catbird  teeterin'  on  a  bough.  I  sees  him  myse'f, 
at  the  cattle  tournament  which  Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog 
pulls  off  conj'intly  over  by  the  Cow  Springs,  throw  a 
rope  one  hundred  and  five  feet  an*  fasten,  tie  down  a 
steer — an'  stand  at  its  head,  loop  free  an'  hands  up — in 
twenty-two  seconds  by  the  jedge's  watch,  an'  win  a 
Chihuahua  saddle,  worth  ten  head  of  fat  cattle,  by  ridin' 
successful  the  most  voylent  mustang  that  ever  bites  a 
Spanish  bit,  or  goes  sunfishin'  through  all  the  mazes  of  a 
fit  of  genyooine  old  fashioned,  heart-felt,  stiff-laigged, 
worm-fence  buckin'.  An'  yet,  in  the  teeth  of  all  them 
feats,  after  he's  a  married  man  I  meets  Riley  collectin' 
shirts  for  Soap  Suds  Sal  to  wash;  an',  more'n  that,  he's 
collectin'  them  garments  afoot. 

"No  one  ever  makes  out  where  Riley's  lightness  goes 
to;  but  vamosed  it  shorely  is.  From  the  most  gala  boy 
that  ever  tightens  a  back  cinch  or  spurs  his  cayouse  in  the 
shoulder,  jest  to  see  it  arch  its  back  and  buck,  he  slumps 
down  dull  an'  inert,  with  no  more  elastic'ty  of  soul  to  him 
than  a  bag  of  putty.  Yes  sir;  moral,  mental  an'  phys'cal, 
Riley  once  he's  married  shows  nothin'  short  of  four  inches 
out  o'  plumb !  An'  while  I  mustn't  be  constrooed  as  say- 
in'  that  no  gent  could  have  espoused  Soap  Suds  Sal  an' 

242 


SOAP  SUDS  SAL 

kept  his  balance,  what  I  does  assert  is  that  sech  is  the 
portrait  of  Riley  Brooks. 

"Speakin'  of  Peets's  inveteracy  about  marryin'  off 
them  single  ladies  whom  he  comes  across,  this  yere  Soap 
Suds  Sal  is  most  likely  the  only  one  he  ever  passes  up. 
Not  that  he  goes  to  the  diskyard  as  to  Sal,  by  virchoo  of 
him  bein'  timid;  Peets,  in  a  matter  involvin'  principle, 
is  that  clean  strain  he'd  break  a  span  of  bobcats  to  harness, 
or  perish  in  the  attempt.  My  own  idee  is  he's  merely 
se'fish,  an*  wishes  to  preserve  Sal  in  them  shirt-washin' 
fields,  wharin  she's  shore  onclassed.  As  it  is,  however, 
she  don't  require  Peets's  aid.  Movin'  husbandward  in 
her  own  good  time  an'  way,  she  decides  on  Riley;  an* 
tharafter  the  kyards  so  to  speak  is  shuffled  an'  dealt,  pore 
Riley  picks  up  his  hand  as  a  married  man,  an'  feebly 
plays  the  same  as  though  the  whole  racket,  from  soda  to 
hock,  is  foreordained. 

"You-all  remembers  about  the  Washwoman's  War? 
An'  how,  as  the  upshot  of  that  embroglio,  which  promises 
for  a  space  to  spill  the  best  blood  of  Wolfville,  an'  from 
which  nothin'  onder  the  genius  of  Enright  could  have 
led  us  forth,  Benson  Annie  weds  Mister  French,  while 
Sal  is  left  to  slop  suds,  slam  flat  irons  an'  burn  shirt- 
bosoms,  the  oncrowned  tub-queen  of  the  camp.  Follow- 
in*  that  emyoote,  things  soon  settles  to  orig'nal  levels. 
Boggs's  laig  gets  well  of  Tutt's  bullet,  an'  the  triumphant 
laundress  allooded  to  proceeds  to  kyarve  for  herse'f  a 
nitch  in  commoonal  economy,  an'  conquers  commoonal 
respect  as  'Soap  Suds  Sal.' 

"Sal  is  a  large  able  lady,  'most  as  big  as  Boggs,  an' 
243 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

can  heft  a  wash-boiler,  overflowin'  of  soap-suds  an' 
duds,  off  the  stove,  as  easy  as  ever  Missis  Rucker  hefts 
a  fryin'  pan  of  salthoss.  Also,  she  keeps  to  herse'f,  an* 
never  comes  pesterin*  no  one  except,  some  Chink  breaks 
in  from  Tucson  with  a  slant-eyed  purpose  of  inaug'ratin' 
a  tub-trundlin'  opposition. 

"When  any  sech  shows  up,  Sal  takes  her  hands  out 
o'  the  suds,  rolls  down  her  sleeves,  puts  on  her  shaker, 
an*  hunts  up  Enright. 

"'Do  I  get  any  protection?'  she  begins.  'Am  I 
to  become  the  victim  of  every  opium  slave  that  takes  a 
pigtailed  notion  to  invade  this  yere  camp  ?  Is  thar  man 
hood  s'fficient  in  Wolfville  to  stampede  a  heathen  of  the 
Orient,  who's  aimin'  a  blow  at  the  American  fabric,  or 
must  I  put  him  over  the  jump  myse'f  ? — an'  me  a  he'pless 
lady!' 

"While  Sal's  goin'  on,  Enright  beats  the  air  with  his 
hands,  dumbly  'pologizin'  an'  invokin'  Sal's  forbearance. 
When  he's  got  her  ca'med,  he  calls  out  to  Jack  Moore. 

"'You  sees,  Jack,  the  trouble  this  onprotected  child  is 
in.  Won't  you  be  so  kind  as  to  take  your  guns,  an' 
disperse  that  obnoxious  son  of  Confoosius  who's  annoyin' 
her?' 

"Ten  minutes  later,  Jack's  bullets  is  cuttin'  the  grass 
around  the  slippers  of  the  offensive  Chinaman,  who's 
burnin'  up  a  mile  of  ground  in  gettin'  away.  Or  mebby 
Jack's  took  a  half-hitch  round  his  saddle-horn,  with  that 
sooperfluous  Mongol's  cue — same  as  when  you-all  '  tails' 
a  steer  or  a  pony — an'  is  yankin'  him  a  mile  or  so  out  o' 
camp  at  a  hand-gallop.  There  yere  latter  proceedin's 

244 


SOAP  SUDS  SAL 

is  speshul  shore  to  act  fav'orable,  inasmuch  as  they  not 
only  serves  as  a  convincin'  hint  to  the  Chink  that  he's 
a  ondesir'ble  citizen,  but  likewise  sufficiently  indicates 
the  course  we  think  he  better  pursoo.  Restored  to  her 
sovereignty  of  the  tubs,  an'  hummin'  a  little  toone,  Sal 
goes  peacefully  back  to  her  shirt-burnin',  suds-sloppin' 
an*  iron-slammin',  heart  at  ease,  the  light  of  a  serene  con 
tentment  shinin'  in  her  azyoore  eyes. 

"Which  matters  goes  rackin'  along  in  this  yere  satis- 
fact'ry  style  for  moons,  an'  no  gent  ever  dreams  of  marry- 
in'  Sal.  If  I'm  driven  into  a  corner  an*  my  bread  took 
away,  in  order  to  force  from  me  a  explanation  why  Sal 
is  thus  immoone,  I'd  say  we  respects  her  too  much. 
Moreover  Sal's  too  big  an'  strong  to  wed.  When  a  lady 
can  pick  up  a  side  of  beef  an'  hang  it  on  a  hook,  an'  not 
even  check  the  flow  of  her  conversation,  it's  more  apt 
to  excite  admiration  than  su'gest  nuptials.  Then  ag'in 
Sal  is  heard  to  say  she  looks  on  old  Rucker  as  a  model 
husband,  a  statement  calk'lated  to  make  a  gent  of  wis 
dom  lean  up  ag'in  somethin'  an'  think.  However,  to 
give  Sal  doo  credit,  she  never  for  a  instant  conducts  her- 
se'f  like  she  harbors  designs  of  matrimony,  none  whatever! 

"Old  Monte  one  time  goes  whisperin'  yere  an'  thar 
that  Sal's  done  took  to  lookin'  at  him  in  a  meanin'  way; 
an'  he  even  lets  up  on  rum,  allowin'  he's  goin'  to  need 
all  his  wits  an'  resolootion.  But  the  camp  gives  no  cree- 
dence  to  these  yere  intimations,  some  holdin*  'em  to  be 
lies,  an'  others — they  bein'  impressed  by  Old  Monte 
quittin'  nosepaint,  a  thing  in  itse'f  thartofore  onthinkable 
in  his  case! — deemin'  'em  but  a  yoonique  form  of  deli- 

245 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

rium  treemers,  brought  on  by  a  change  of  licker  which  the 
Red  Light  makes  about  that  time. 

"Whether  or  no  Sal  gets  to  adore  Riley,  is  a  problem 
which  has  ever  been  beyond  my  depth.  Ondoubted, 
when  she  declares  herse'f  in  favor  of  marryin'  him  that 
a-way,  an'  carries  him  off  to  the  altar,  it's  nacheral  to 
assoome  she  does.  As  ag'inst  this,  why  ever  does  she 
in  cold  blood  redooce  him — an'  him  as  buoyant  a  cow 
puncher  as  ever  sings  'Sandy  Land'  or  breaks  a  bronco 
to  saddle! — to  the  water-drawin'  levels  of  a  laundry, 
an'  a  perepatetic  skirmishin'  for  foul  shirts  ?  As  a  play, 
I'm  yere  to  confess  it's  got  me  swept  plumb  off  the  board. 
All  I  lays  down  for  shore  is,  she  does  it;  an'  thar  I  leaves 
you  to  go  romancin'  'round  in  the  tangle,  onwindin1 
reasons  for  yourse'f.". 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   WOOING   OF   RILEY 

THIS  yere  Riley  ain't  no  novelty  to  Wolfville,  an'  him 
an*  his  blanket  mate,  Four-bar  Bob,  has  been  some 
frequent  in  the  scenery  for  more'n  a  year.  This 
latter  sport  is  older  than  Riley;  an',  since  he's  got  a  bunch 
of  cattle  over  by  the  Tres  Hermanas  marked  with  that 
brand,  we  calls  him  'Four-bar'  Bob.  He  says  he  buys 
the  cattle;  but  thar's  cause  to  suspect  he  ravishes  'em 
from  a  passel  of  Mexicans  down  south  of  the  line,  an' 
never  pays  a  soo  markee.  Still,  so  long  as  they  ain't 
been  cut  out  of  the  herds  nor  driven  from  ranges  of  no 
Americano,  sech  surmises  causes  no  excitement  our  side 
of  the  nation Jl  boundary.  Four-bar  an'  Riley,  as  a 
method  of  livelihood,  mootually  works  these  yere  Mexi 
can  cattle,  with  now  an'  then  a  week  off  as  bronco  busters, 
breakin'  bands  of  ponies  for  Enright  an'  the  rest  of  us  at 
three  dollars  a  head. 

"Riley,  personal,  is  a  shallow  feather-headed  form  of 
yooth,  an',  while  he's  some  given  to  noise  an'  licker, 
most  folks — if  you  bars  Black  Jack — likes  him.  Black 
Jack  is  among  the  few  who  nurses  aversions  for  Riley. 
An'  I  must  say  Black  Jack  ha's  his  grievances,  Riley 
cherishin'  a  weakness  for  smashin'  glasses  on  the  floor 
by  way  of  roundin'  off  a  drink. 

"One  day  a  party  drives  over  from  Tucson,  introo- 
247 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

ducin'  a  patent  fire  extinguisher,  said  contraption  con- 
sistin'  of  glass  globes,  about  the  size  of  cocanuts,  filled 
with  flooids  guaranteed  to  give  a  conflagration  heart- 
failure.  Thar's  a  sign  goes  with  'em  which  reads,  'To  be 
used  in  case  of  fire!'  as  puttin'  a  casyooal  an'  oninstructed 
public  onto  their  virchoos,  should  any  blaze  break  loose. 

"Black  Jack  looks  'em  over  plenty  thoughtful,  an' 
buys  twelve.  He  fits  'em  up  in  their  wire  rack  on  the 
Red  Light  wall,  an'  changes  the  notice  onder  'em  to 
read: 

"'To  be  used  in  case  of  Riley.' 

"'Thar,'  says  Black  Jack  to  Cherokee,  who's  con- 
siderin'  these  yere  preecautions;  'Enright  won't  let  me 
beef  Riley,  an'  so  I  allows,  if  he  ever  shows  up  in  this 
s'loon  ag'in,  to  chunk  him  up  with  these  a  lot.' 

"When  Riley  learns  of  them  Red  Light  prep'rations, 
he's  plumb  hostile  an'  talks  of  paintin'  up  for  war. 
Enright  an'  Jack  Moore,  however,  convinces  him  it 
won't  do  none;  an',  since  later  they  floor-manages  a  peace 
between  him  an'  Black  Jack — Riley  promisin'  to  omit 
glass-smashin'  from  his  repertory — them  fire  missils 
never  works  their  way  into  action. 

"While  folks  likes  Riley,  his  pard  Four-bar  Bob  is 
far  from  bein'  a  pop'lar  idol.  Not  that  he  ever  starts 
anythin',  but  because  he  always  looks  as  though  he's 
goin'  to.  He's  one  of  them  sour,  dark,  oncommoonica- 
tive  sports,  whose  atmosphere,  as  Peets  calls  it,  is  nacher- 
ally  repellant.  I  myse'f  figgers  thar's  a  streak  of  Injun 
in  Four-bar,  in  which  eevent  your  not  likin'  him  none 
is  explained.  Cross-breeds  that  a-way  is  always  vicious 

248 


THE  WOOING  OF  RILEY 

an*  onsatisfactory,  an'  no  gent  of  experience  ever  takes 
his  guns  off  while  one's  in  sight. 

"No,  I'm  enable  to  fathom  what's  wrong  with  cross 
breeds;  an'  yet  somehow  some'ers  they  shore  hides  the 
seeds  of  disaster  in  their  constitootions.  Sech  puzzles 
in  hoomanity  is  plumb  hard  to  savey,  an'  for  myse'f  I 
only  gets  at  it  this  yere  fashion.  Take  a  proper  deck  of 
fifty-two  kyards;  a  handful  of  gents'll  play  all  night 
with  'em,  win  an'  lose  their  thousands,  an'  never  no  cloud 
to  rise  in  the  sky.  Let  some  sech  element  as  a  fifth  ace 
creep  in,  an'  it's  a  stack  of  yellows  to  a  white  chip  thar's 
a  killin'.  It's  the  same  with  people.  Some  folks  it 
looks  like  is  foaled  with  a  fifth  ace  in  their  make-up — 
preedestines  storm-centers  from  the  jump! 

"An'  sech  is  Four-bar  Bob.  You-all  could  smell 
trouble  off  him  same  as  you  smells  a  storm  in  its  ap 
proach;  which  is  mighty  likely  why  no  one  goes  hankerin' 
an'  honin'  for  his  s'ciety.  That  is  no  one  except  the 
eboolient  Riley;  I  must  say  Four-bar  an'  Riley  gets  along 
together  as  comfortable  as  two  peas  in  a  pod.  Mebby 
Four-bar  reelly  likes  Riley;  even  the  most  ornery  is 
obleeged  to  dote  on  somebody. 

"Riley  makes  the  front  for  himse'f  an'  Four-bar,  what 
times  business  commoonications  is  necessary  between 
Wolfville  an'  themselves.  Four-bar  hardly  ever  shows 
up.  Also,  no  one  so  far  as  I  hears — an'  my  y'ears  is 
some  voloominous,  not  to  say  acoote — as  touchin'  them 
absences,  lodges  any  complaints. 

"Riley  is  one  day  meanderin'  about,  an*  nothin'  on 
that  vacant  mind  of  his  more'n  livin'  till  tomorry. 
17  249 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Because  he's  over  drinked  a  little,  he  feels  excursive,  an* 
in  his  wanderin's  breaks  in  on  Sal,  as  she's  puttin'  a  batch 
of  bloo  shirts  through  a  second  suds.  Riley  plants  him- 
se'f  on  a  upturned  tub,  an'  surveys  Sal  sort  o'  lack-luster, 
grinnin'  meanwhile  a  p'intless  eediotic  grin.  Sal  in 
return  regyards  Riley  mighty  severe,  an'  with  mebby  a 
glint  of  inquiry  in  her  bloo  eye. 

"'What  for  a  j'int  is  this?'  asks  Riley  after  a  while. 

"Sal  sees  Riley  no  end  of  times,  but  yeretofore  she 
takes  no  notice  of  him.  It's  a  big  chance  if  Riley  don't 
blunder  into  her  laundry  that  time,  an*  give  her  a  chance 
to  look  him  over  an*  mebby  get  idees,  all  might  yet  be 
well.  But  sech  is  fate;  Riley  goes  pirootin'  along  in, 
camps  down  on  a  tub,  takes  to  makin'  imbecile  demands 
an'  playin'  so  to  speak  with  fire. 

" '  What  for  a  j'int  is  this  ? '  Sal  repeats.  '  Which  it's 
a  laundry.  An'  onless  you  comports  yourse'f  plenty 
genteel,  you'll  get  a  smoothin'  iron  at  your  head!' 

"Nothin*  more  comes  off;  Riley  an'  Sal  stares  at  one 
another  mootely  for  a  space,  after  which  Riley  pulls 
his  fog-enveloped  freight. 

"  But  the  thing  don't  end  yere.  Riley  goes  back;  an' 
goes  back  ag'in.  In  fact  he  keeps  on  goin'  back  con 
stant  for  somethin'  like  two  months.  Meanwhile,  Sal 
takes  to  ironin*  the  buttons  off  everybody's  shirts,  an' 
burnin'  holes  into  them  articles  of  apparel  with  flat-irons 
doorin'  fits  of  abstraction,  an'  Enright  an'  Peets  puts 
two  an'  two  together  an*  decides  she's  in  love.  Not 
that  they  appears  overjoyed,  the  same  bein'  the  only  time. 

"After  two  months  of  these  yere  attentions  on  Riley's 

250 


THE  WOOING  OF  RILEY 

part,  things  culminates;  either  him  or  Sal  proposes,  an* 
Riley  staggers  forth  an'  informs  the  public  he's  engaged. 
As  sol'mnizin'  that  betrothal,  he  gets  deeply  an*  dee- 
jectedly  drunk. 

"Texas  Thompson  is  speshully  worked  up,  an*  asks 
Riley  is  he  actin'  of  his  own  free  will. 
'  'No!'  cries  Riley,  sheddin'  tears. 

"'Then/  says  Texas,  'don't  you  do  it  none.  You 
write  her  a  letter  pleadin'  intox'cation,  an*  declar'in'  all 
bets  off.  An'  mind,  don't  you  go  trackin'  round  in  per 
son  none  to  say  "good-by!"  Which  I'm  fool  enough  to 
do  that  once,  an'  I  gets  married  before  I  leaves  the  house. 
Take  warnin'  by  me!  Write  your  far'wells;  it's  what 
post-offices  is  for.' 

"Riley  thanks  Texas,  an'  allows  he's  too  drunk  to 
write  at  that  preecise  moment,  but'll  seize  on  his  first  so 
ber  interval  so  to  do. 

"As  near  as  we  learns,  Four-bar  is  of  one  mind  with 
Texas,  an'  opposes  Riley's  nuptials. 

"An*  why?'  asks  Riley,  as  Four-bar  lectures  him 
on  the  eenorm'ty  of  him  gettin'  married  that  a-way. 

"'Why?'  retorts  Four-bar,  floppin'  a  flap-jack  in  the 
fryin'  pan,  him  cookin'  supper  at  the  time.  'Because, 
for  sech  a  rattlewitted  fly-by-night  as  you-all  to  have  a 
wife  is  onnacheral.' 

"'Now  I  don't  look  on  it  in  that  light,'  says  Riley. 
'Which  to  me[  the  scheme  presents  some  fasc'natin' 
feachoors.' 

"Four-bar  an'  Riley  bickers  all  through  supper;  an' 
then,  findin'  no  progress  is  made,  Four-bar  beats  Riley 

251 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

over  the  head  with  the  fryin'  pan  ontil  he  agrees  he'll  stay 
single. 

"'Sw'ar!'  says  Four-bar. 

"'I  sw'ar!'  says  Riley — 'I  sw'ar  to  remain  as  single 
as  possible!  I  hopes  to  j'ine  the  Injuns  if  I  don't!' 

"Four-bar's  hostil'ty  to  Riley  becomin'  a  husband  takes 
sech  shape  the  next  day,  that  he  brings  that  lover  into 
town,  to  tell  Sal  he's  decided  otherwise.  The  two  keeps 
their  errand  a  heap  secret;  no  one  has  the  least  guess. 
The  fact  that  Four-bar  looks  oncommon  morose  an'  sour 
means  nothin',  sech  bein'  his  normal  expressions.  They 
goes  to  the  Red  Light,  subscribes  for  a  few  drinks,  an'  then 
decides,  as  Texas  advises  that  time,  to  write  Sal  a  letter. 

"Thar's  a  hitch,  however;  Riley  can't  only  write  a  little 
bit,  an'  Four-bar  none  whatever.  They  seeks  to  engage 
Black  Jack  as  a  amanyooensis,  but  that  careful  barkeep 
declines  an  the  grounds  of  forgery.  At  last  Riley  allows 
he'll  go  over  to  the  post-office,  win  out  some  letter  paper, 
an*  do  the  best  he  can. 

"While  Riley's  engaged  upon  these  yere  cler'cal  labors, 
Four-bar  continyoos  to  reefresh  himse'f  about  the  Red 
Light.  This  is  error;  for  the  nosepaint  reeacts  on  the 
Injun  in  him,  an'  the  next  news  he's  in  the  saddle, 
chargin'  his  pony  up  the  street,  whoopin'  an'  whirlin'  his 
gun  on  his  finger. 

"In  a  sperit  of  studied  contoomely,  Four-bar  takes  to 
waltzin'  his  bronco  all  over  the  sidewalk.  Enright,  who's 
in  the  New  York  Store,  has  his  attention  drawn  to  this 
solecism  out  of  the  window. 

"'  Whoever  is  this  party,  Jack,'  he  asks  Jack  Moore, 
252 


THE  WOOING  OF  RILEY 

'who's  thus  rappin'  his  horns,  an*  stampin'  an*  pawin* 
for  trouble  out  yere  on  a  hoss  ? ' 

"'That's  Riley  Brooks'  partner/  says  Jack;  'it's  Four- 
bar.' 

"'Well,  whoever  it  is/  says  Enright,  goin'  back  to  his 
purchases,  '  I  hopes  you'll  take  steps  to  redooce  his  friv- 
ol'ties  to  minimum.  Which  he's  becomin'  far  too  broad 
cast  that  a- way.' 

"By  this  time  Four-bar's  grown  as  mad  as  one  of  them 
hydrophoby  polecats.  All  the  Apache  in  him  comes  to 
the  top.  At  sight  of  Jack  he  throws  his  pistol  on  him; 
but  Jack  is  thar  with  the  drop,  an'  gets  the  first  shot. 

"The  bullet  goes  through  Four-bar's  laiggin',  an' 
downs  his  pony. 

"As  the  pony  falls,  it  pins  Four-bar  to  the  ground. 
He's  game  though;  an'  while  every  shot's  a  miss,  he  lets 
loose  all  six  loads  as  he  lays  thar.  Jack  himse'f  is  quite 
as  busy,  an'  much  more  ackerate,  his  fifth  gettin'  Four- 
bar  through  the  lungs. 

"Which  I  never  could  shoot  none  with  a  pony  on 
my  laig/  says  Four-bar,  an' — a  splash  of  blood  on  his 
moustache — sinks  back  dead. 

"Riley,  over  in  the  post-office,  hears  the  bombard 
ment,  swings  onto  his  pony,  an'  comes  a-runnin'.  It's 
all  over  when  he  gets  thar;  perceivin'  which,  he  brings 
his  bronco  'round  on  its  hind  hoofs  for  a  get-away. 
Jest  as  Riley  doubles  the  corner,  Jack's  last  bullet  splashes 
on  a  silver  dollar  in  his  coat  pocket.  That's  the  final 
shot;  Riley  digs  in  his  spurs,  hits  a  few  high  places  in 
the  topography,  an'  is  half  way  to  the  Tres  Hermanas. 

253 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Sal,  who's  over  in  her  laundry,  sees  Riley  an'  Four- 
bar  as  they  rides  in.  When  minute  after  minute  goes  by, 
an'  no  Riley,  she  takes  it  so  much  to  heart  she  burns 
the  bosom  out  of  Peets*  Tucson  shirt.  Which  this  yere 
vestment  is  white;  an'  Peets  wears  it  when  he  visits  Tuc 
son,  so  as  to  give  them  prairie  dogs  a  proper  est'mate  of 
whatever  Wolfville  is.  It's  a  thing  of  the  past  now, 
however — rooinated  complete!' 

"  Which  the  smoke  of  battle's  hardly  blown  aside  when 
Sal,  backed  by  Missis  Rucker,  brings  Jack  to  bay. 

"'You're  a  bright  execyootive!'  cries  Missis  Rucker, 
in  tones  of  fierce  contempt.  'Whatever  do  you  mean 
by  chasin'  Sal's  swain  out  o*  town  for  ? ' 

' '  Yere  I  be,'  says  Sal,  her  eyes  flashin'  a  heap  om'n- 
ous,  'an*  never  once  sees  my  Riley  for  two  days!  Then, 
when  at  last  he  does  come  driftin'  in,  you  devotes  your 
eediotic  energies  to  shootin'  him  all  up.  It'll  jest  be 
my  luck  if  he  never  does  come  back  no  more!  Which 
my  pore  heart  tells  he'll  seize  on  your  reedic'lous  gun 
play  as  pretexts  for  breakin'  our  engagement!' 

"Between  us,  I  never  sees  Jack  so  took  aback!  He 
makes  every  effort  to  excoose  himse'f. 

"'Of  course,  Sal/  he  says,  'you  onderstands  that  what 
I  does  I  does  offishul.  An'  yet  I'm  free  to  say — con- 
fessin'  the  same  as  a  fault — I  gets  that  wropped  up  in 
my  dooties,  I  plumb  forgets  them  cer'monies  you  plans 
with  Riley.  Otherwise  I'd  have  downed  his  pony  with 
that  last  cartridge,  an'  turned  him  over  to  you.  But 
perhaps  it  ain't  too  late.' 

"Which  you'd  shore  better  say  it  ain't  too  late,  Jack 
254 


THE  WOOING  OF  RILEY 

Moore!'  says  Missis  Rucker.  'You  go  capture  that 
Riley  boy  now,  or  don't  you  ever  come  back!  I  cer 
tainly  never  sees  no  sech  spoil-sport  since  a  yard  of  cloth 
made  a  frock  for  me!' 

"Enright  comes  up,  an*  seeks  to  console  Sal.  'This 
is  plumb  onforchoonate!'  he  says;  'but  you  knows 
the  aphorism,  ladies:  Troo  love  never  runs  smooth. 
However,  be  of  cheer!  It's  diamonds  to  dumplin's 
Jack  yere  runs  that  recreeant  lover  down.' 

"'Which  I'll  get  him,'  says  Jack,  mighty  desp'rate, 
'if  he  makes  a  trail  as  long  as  the  wanderin'  Jew!' 

"Jack  cinches  a  saddle  onto  a  swift  hoss,  an*  hits  the 
trail  for  the  Tres  Hermanas.  Two  days  later  he  rides 
back  with  Riley,  tied  hand  an'  foot,  wrist  an'  fetlock, 
on  a  lead  pony.  Riley's  arm  is  broke,  an'  he's  suffered 
sundry  contoosions. 

'"He  goes  scamperin'  off  like  a  jackrabbit,'  explains 
Jack.  'His  pony,  too,  is  some  sudden  for  so  little 
a  hoss;  I  chases  him  a  mile  before  I'm  clost  enough 
to  alloode  to  my  errand.  At  that  he  won't  stop  none;  so, 
bein'  I'm  in  ropin'  distance,  I  tosses  the  loop  of  my  lariat 
over  him,  an*  yanks  him  back'ards  out  o'  the  saddle. 
He  hits  the  grass  a  little  hard,  I  fears;  an'  it's  fractured 
him  a  trifle,  an*  mebby  bruised  an'  abrated  him  some. 
Still,  thar's  plenty  of  him  left  to  marry.' 

"'If  you-all  needs  me,'  says  Riley,  who's  been  listenin' 
a  heap  impatient,  'what's  the  matter  of  sayin'  so?  But 
no;  you  goes  to  ridin'  an'  ropin'  an'  ropin'  an'  ridin', 
an'  confoosin'  me  all  up  to  sech  extents,  I  nacherally 
seeks  safety  in  flight.  This  idee  too,  of  lassooin'  a  party, 

255 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

same's  if  he's  a  calf,  is  plumb  onlegal;  an'  I'll  gamble 
on  it!  Gimme  my  guns!' 

"'You'll  get  your  guns,'  says  Jack,  'when  you're  a 
married  man,  an'  not  ontil.' 

"Which  I  more'n  once  observes  that  thar's  nothin' 
like  bone-fractures  an'  gun-shot  wounds  to  bring  out 
the  sentimental  in  a  gent.  A  couple  of  bullets,  planted 
proper,  in  the  hooman  frame,  '11  set  the  patient  to  com- 
posin'  verses.  Likewise,  wounded  gents  is  partial  to 
ladies  speshul.  It  falls  this  way  in  the  case  of  Riley,  who 
the  moment  he's  hurt  takes  to  Sal  like  a  kitten  to  a  hot 
brick. 

"An'  Sal  reeciprocates.  As  soon  as  ever  Peets  gets 
the  bridegroom  spliced  an'  splinted  together,  Sal  goes 
bearin'  him  off  to  Tucson  for  the  sacrifice. 

"No,  Riley  don't  make  no  objections,  but  lets  on  he's 
plumb  pleased. 

"'Which  wedlock  tickles  me  to  death!'  he  says. 

"But  somehow  I  don't  know!  If  it  does,  he's  shore 
got  a  funny  way  of  showin'  it.  Moreover,  it  looks  like 
Riley's  new-found  bliss  about  jolts  his  intellects  off 
their  centers.  He's  certainly  been  draggin'  his  mental 
lariat  ever  since  them  expousals,  an'  most  of  the  time 
a-steppin'  on  the  rope.  It's  all  mighty  piteous  an' 
pathetic!  The  last  time  I  sees  pore  Riley,  he's  drinkin' 
plumb  inord'nate;  an'  runnin'  nose  an'  nose  with  Old 
Monte,  in  efforts  to  determine  that  grand  problem, 
which  so  many  has  tackled  an'  none  has  solved,  of  how 
to  stay  drunk  an'  reemain  sober  at  one  an'  the  same  time." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   COPPER   HEAD 

BACK    in   Tennessee,"  observed   the   old   gentle 
man,  with   an   air  of   meditative  retrospection, 
"when    in    boyhood's    happy  hour  I   attends 
services  in  them  sanctchooaries  that's  scattered  up  an* 
down  my  ancestral  'Possum  Trot,  I  frequent  hears  the 
preacher  sharps  refer  to  'the  cunnin'  of  the  serpent.' 

"As  a  child  I  allows  that  the  same,  with  said  pastors, 
is  a  mere  figger  of  pulpit  speech;  the  more  since  what 
serpents  I  scrapes  pers'nal  acquaintance  with — an* 
I  gen'ally  scrapes  it  with  a  elm  club — proves  plumb 
doltish  that  a-way,  an'  thick.  Them  reptiles  when  tested 
displays  about  as  much  cunnin'  as  Thompson's  colt, 
which  animal  is  that  besotted  it  swims  a  river  to  get 
a  drink.  Later  on,  however,  as  I  b'ars  interested  witness 
to  the  wile  an'  guile  of  the  Copper  Head,  as  he  salts 
the  Golden  Roole  felonious,  an'  depletes  Bass  Drum 
Bowlby  of  forty  thousand  in  cold  dollars  tharwith,  I 
recalls  that  phrase  of  them  divines  as  something  which, 
if  applied  to  the  Copper  Head,  would  shore  have  been 
plenty  jestified. 

"The  Copper  Head  preceeds  Bass  Drum  into  camp 
by  about  a  week.  In  trooth,  he's  adjourned  to  Red  Dog 
before  ever  Bass  Drum  shows  up,  an*  ain't  livin'  none  in 

257 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

Wolfville  at  all.  Not  that  he's  so  feeble-minded  he 
prefers  Red  Dog,  only  Cherokee  Hall  alarms  him  so  he 
don't  dare  stay. 

"What  rouses  Cherokee  is  this:  While  not  sayin' 
nothin',  the  Copper  Head  is  guilty  one  evening  of  a  deal 
of  onnecessary  starin'  at  Faro  Nell,  as  that  young  priest 
ess  of  fortune  sets  lookin'  out  Cherokee's  play.  Of  a 
sudden,  at  the  close  of  a  deal,  Cherokee  turns  his  box 
up,  an'  briefly  excooses  himself — he's  onflaggin'ly  p'lite, 
that  a-way — to  what  gents  is  buckin'  the  game.  He 
crosses  over  to  the  Copper  Head,  planted  by  himse'f 
down  near  the  end  of  the  bar. 

"'You  don't  gamble  none?'  remarks  Cherokee, 
givin'  the  words  a  upflourish  to  show  it's  a  question. 

"'No/  replies  the  Copper  Head;  'I'm  averse  irrev'c- 
able  to  takin'  chances/ 

"'Then/  returns  Cherokee,  mighty  bitter,  'don't  look 
at  that  young  lady  none  no  more.  Which  in  so  doin', 
whether  you're  wise  to  it  or  no,  you're  takin'  the  chances 
of  your  life!' 

"As  Cherokee  vouchsafes  this  admonition,  an'  by  way 
of  urgin'  it  home  on  the  wanderin'  fack'lties  of  the 
Copper  Head,  he  cinches  onto  that  serpent  by  the  y'ear 
— the  same  bein'  some  wide-flung  an'  fan-like — an'  leads 
him  to  the  Red  Light  door.  Once  arrived  at  that  egress, 
Cherokee  desmisses  him  outside  by  a  foot  in  the  small 
of  the  back,  said  Copper  Head  flying  through  the  air  in 
the  shape  of  a  hooman  horse-shoe. 

"'Now,  don't  return!'  cautions  Cherokee,  as  the 
Copper  Head,  who  lands  all  spraddled  out  in  the  dust  of 

258 


THE  COPPER  HEAD 

the  street,  picks  himse'f  up  an'  goes  limpin'  over  to  the  O. 
K.  House;  'I've  took  a  distaste  ag'in  you,  an'  the  less 
I  sees  of  you  the  longer  you're  likely  to  last.' 

"'That  Copper  Head,'  says  Boggs,  as  Cherokee  gets 
in  back  of  his  box  ag'in,  'is  ornery  to  the  brink  of  bein' 
odious;  an'  yet,  Cherokee,  I  don't  much  reckon  he's 
starin'  at  Nell  in  a  sperit  of  insult.  My  idee  is  he's 
simply  eediotic.' 

"'Mebby  so,'  returns  Cherokee,  some  grim;  'we-all 
wont  argue  that,  Dan.  Let  me  add,  however,  for  the 
illoom'nation  of  all  concerned,  that  if  eediocy's  to  be  a 
defence  yereafter  for  crim'nal  roodness,  why  then  I'm 
some  eediotic  myse'f — on  certain  subjects.  One  of  'em 
is  Nell,  as  that  Copper  Head'll  shore  find  out  a  heap, 
should  him  and  his  red  snake  eyes  take  to  transgressin' 
ag'in.' 

"Snappin'  the  deck  he's  rifflin'  into  the  deal  box, 
Cherokee  addresses  the  circle  about  the  lay-out: 

"'Now,  gents,'  he  says,  his  urbanity  restored,  'when 
your  hands  is  off  your  stacks,  we'll  resoome  the  exercises 
of  the  evenin'.  Thar  you  be! — Trey  lose,  nine  win!' 

"'Which  in  all  my  born  days,'  wails  the  Copper  Head, 
complainin'  to  Rucker  of  the  voylent  usage  he  receives — 
'which  in  all  my  born  days  thar's  never  a  more  onpro- 
voked  assault!  Cats  may  look  at  kings!' 

"'That  cat-an'-king  bluff,'  returns  Rucker,  mighty 
onsympathetic,  'may  go  in  the  far  East,  but  it  carries 
no  weight  in  Arizona,  none  whatever!  Before  you-all 
insists  round  yere  on  lookin'  at  any  kings,  you  better  be 
shore  an*  have,  besides  a  workin'  knowledge  of  the  gent 

259 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

who's  holdin'  'em,  somethin'  vergin'  onto  a  full  hand 
yourse'f.' 

"No,  nothin'  comes  of  Cherokee's  rebooke,  the  Copper 
Head  takin*  it  plumb  moote  an*  quiescent,  that  a-way. 
Snakes  may  be  p'isen,  an'  frequent  is,  but  thar  ain't  a 
ounce  of  war  in  a  wagonload.  However,  since  early  the 
next  mornin'  the  Cooper  Head  pulls  his  freight  in  favor 
of  Red  Dog,  I  nacherally  infers  said  eepisode  to  be  the 
cause. 

"While  the  Copper  Head  done  packs  his  blankets  over 
to  Red  Dog,  an'  tharfore  the  disgrace  of  his  citizenship 
belongs  rightful  to  that  collection  of  vulgarians,  he's 
most  every  day  in  Wolfville  confabbin'  with  Rucker. 
Not  that  they  nourishes  designs;  Rucker,  mental,  bein' 
no  more'n  a  four  spot,  an'  totally  onfit  for  what  the  actor 
person  in  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House  calls,  'treasons, 
strategems  an'  spoils.'  But  the  Copper  Head  is  so  much 
like  Misery,  that  he  shore  loves  company;  an',  since  no  one 
except  Rucker'll  stand  for  his  s'ciety,  he  puts  in  a  lot  of 
time  hibernatin'  round  with  that  broken-sperited  hus 
band.  As  for  Rucker  himse'f,  he's  plumb  willin';  for, 
at  bein'  what  you-all  might  call  a  social  fav'rite,  said 
spouse  of  Missis  Rucker's  ain't  got  nothin'  on  the  Copper 
Head.  Which  any  contest  of  onpopyoolar'ty  between 
'em  would  have  been  a  stand-off,  a  plain  case  of  hoss  an' 
boss. 

"Some  darkened  sport  says  some'ers  that  thar's 
nothin'  in  mere  looks,  in  which  utterances  he's  shootin' 
plenty  wild.  The  Copper  Head  is  instanter  the  least 
trusted  an'  most  deespised  party  that  ever  comes  rackin' 

2GO 


THE  COPPER  HEAD 

into  Wolfville;  an'  yet,  if  you  backtracks  for  reasons,  you 
finds  nothin'  ag'in  him  at  the  go-off  but  his  looks. 

"For  that  matter,  thar's  nothing  particular  ag'in  him 
at  the  finish,  his  clean-up  of  Bass  Drum  for  them  forty 
thousand,  comin'  onder  the  head  of  a  private  play, 
wharin'  the  public  ain't  entitled  to  a  look-in.  Mines,  like 
roolette  an'  draw  poker  an'  farobank,  is  a  deevice  to 
which  no  gent  is  licensed  to  pull  his  cha'r  up,  onless 
he's  preepared  pers'nal  to  protect  himse'f  plumb  through. 
If  he  gets  handed  a  gold  brick,  thar's  nothing'  in  the 
sityooation  which  entitles  him,  for  purposes  of  revenge  or 
retrobootion,  to  ring  the  body  pol'tic  in  on  the  play. 
This  yere's  Peets'  doctrine;  an',  when  it  comes  to  a  even 
balancin'  of  right  an'  wrong,  that  scientist  possesses  the 
wisdom  of  a  tree  full  of  owls. 

"As  I  states,  it's  the  looks  of  this  Copper  Head  which 
confers  on  him  his  low  ratin'  in  the  gen'ral  esteem. 
He's  a  thin,  bony,  scar-crow  form  of  hoomanity,  with 
little  red  eyes  like  a  ferret,  y'ears  of  onbecoomin'  lib'r- 
ality,  loose  lip,  wide  onauthorized  mouth,  the  whole 
capped  by  a  stubble  of  ha'r  the  hue  of  one  of  them  liver- 
colored  bird  dogs.  His  hands,  too  is  long  an'  knobby, 
an'  has  a  cold,  clammy  feel  when  you  takes  hold  of  'em 
like  the  belly  of  a  fish.  Rucker  allows  that  back  East 
the  Copper  Head's  a  sexton,  an'  digs  graves;  which  may 
or  may  not  be  the  reason  a  damp,  moldy,  tomb-like  smell 
invests  his  physical  bein'  perpetyooal,  an'  wrops  it  round 
like  a  atmosphere. 

"As  a  further  pop'lar  set-back  the  Copper  Head  lets 
on  he's  a  party  of  exact  morals.  Never  once  askin'  the 

261 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

way  to  the  nearest  s'loon,  the  same  bein'  the  yoosual  in 
quiry  of  emigrants,  his  first  question  after  he  hits  the 
outfit  is  'Do  we-all  have  a  church?'  It's  on  Texas 
Thompson  he  presses  his  query  concernin'  meetin'  houses, 
an'  when  Texas  replies  some  surly;  'No,  but  we've  got  a 
grave  yard/  meanin'  Boot  Hill,  the  Copper  Head  lapses 
into  silence,  savin'  what's  left  of  his  stock  of  inquisitive- 
ness  for  the  y'ears  of  Rucker. 

"Aside  from  him  bein'  reepulsive,  pers'nal,  the  Copper 
Head  conducts  himse'f  in  a  sneaky,  onderground  way; 
an'  he  shows  himse'f  so  he'pless  intellectchooal,  when  put 
up  ag'inst  what  few  prop'sitions  the  camp  casyooally 
submits  to  him  to  fix  his  caliber,  that  Boggs  an'  Tutt  an' 
Texas  is  all  of  one  mind  that  he's  a  eediot. 

"'Not  witless  enough  to  lock  up,  you  onderstand, 
explains  Tutt, '  but  onfit  to  hold  commoonyon  with  folks 
whose  sombreros  is  of  normal  size.' 

"'Don't  get  your  chips  down  wrong,  Dave,'  warns 
Peets,  to  whom  Tutt's  talkin';  'that  Copper  Head's 
not  your  kind,  an'  you  simply  fails  to  savey  him.  You 
an'  Dan  an'  Texas  thar  is  one  an'  all  the  dog  sort  of  man. 
This  Copper  Head  belongs  to  the  snake  tribe.  Which 
you  couldn't  count  him  up  nor  take  his  measure  in  a 
thousand  years!  You  can  gamble  that  name  of  " Copper 
Head,"  which  Old  Monte  informs  me  he  acquires  in  Tuc 
son,  aint  no  mis-cue  in  nomenclatchoor!' 

" '  The  Copper  Head  is  loafin'  about,  listless  an'  onre- 
gyarded,  the  same  evenin'  Bass  Drum  Bowlby  blows  in. 
This  latter  gent  is  the  preecise  opposite  to  the  Copper 
Head,  bein'  so  big  an'  broad  an'  thick  he  has  to  be  prized 

262 


THE  COPPER  HEAD 

out  o'  the  stage,  him  measurin'  wider  than  the  door. 
Also  he's  certainly  the  most  resoundin'  sport!  Which  his 
conversation,  when  he's  talkin',  goes  rollin'  'round  the 
town  like  peals  of  thunder;  an'  at  supper,  when  he's 
obleeged  to  ask  for  doughnuts  the  second  time,  seven 
ponies  boils  out  of  the  corral,  an'  goes  stampedin*  off 
for  the  hills. 

"'Say,  pard,'  he  roars  appealin'ly  to  Boggs,  who  settin' 
next,  "jest  please  pass  them  fried  holes!' 

"An*  with  that,  them  alarmed  cayouses  lines  out  for 
cover  in  the  Tres  Hermanas,  onder  the  impression 
Wolfville's  done  gone  crashin'  to  its  eternal  fall. 

"While  I  wont  say  we-all  sets  up  nights  declarin' 
our  friendly  admiration  for  Bass  Drum  none,  still  he's 
a  mighty  sight  more  tol'rable  than  the  Copper  Head. 
You-all  could  pass  a  hour  in  his  company  without  feelin' 
the  hom'cidal  instinct  beginnin'  to  move  in  your  bosom, 
an'  set  you  eetchin'  to  shed  hooman  life.  For  one 
moll'fyin'  matter,  without  bein'  partic'larly  inclined  crim- 
'nal,  Bass  Drum  possesses  vices  s'fficient  to  keep  a  se'f 
respectin'  gent  in  countenance.  He's  a  heap  noisy  an' 
obvious,  an'  owns  a  metallic  voice  like  one  of  these  yere 
Chinese  dinner  gongs;  but  he's  sociable,  an',  when  all's 
in,  his  voice  is  jest  the  same  a  good-nachered  voice. 
Moreover,  he's  liable  to  change  in  a  hundred  dollar  bill 
at  faro-bank,  or  fling  a  ten  across  the  Red  Light  counter 
as  his  subscription  towards  drinks  for  the  house,  in  which 
amiable  respects  he  proves  himse'f  in  symp'thy  with  his 
day  an'  place.  Also,  as  I  observes,  Bass  Drum  is  'ppre- 
ciative  of  the  virchoos  of  vice. 

263 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Shore!  The  whitest  gents  I  ever  meets  up  with  has 
vices.  For  myse'f,  so  long  as  they  keeps  'em  out  from 
onder  my  feet,  I  finds  no  fault.  What  is  it  Cain  remarks 
after  he  bumps  off  Abel  that  time  ?  While  I  don't  ap 
plaud  Cain  none  in  that  killin',  the  sentiment  he  fulm'n- 
ates  later  secoores  my  yoonan'mous  endorsements. 

"No  gent  ought  to  over-look  the  great  social  trooism 
that,  rightly  regyarded,  a  vice  is  nothin'  but  a  virchoo 
multiplied.  A  virchoo  is  like  a  cowcumber;  it's  no 
good  once  it  goes  to  seed.  Which  it  then  becomes  a  vice. 
That's  the  straight  goods;  every  vice  is  nothin'  but  some 
virchoo  over-played.  Wharfore,  when  I  crosses  up  with 
a  gent  who's  beset  of  vices  that-a-way,  I  reflects  to  my 
self  thus-wise:  'Now  this  yere  sport  has  virchoos;  the 
loose  screw  is  he's  got  too  plumb  many  an'  too  much!' 
Lookin*  at  it  from  that  angle,  he's  not  only  to  be  excoosed 
but  loved. 

"Whoever  is  this  Bass  Drum  sport?  All  I  knows  is 
that  on  a  first  occasion  of  his  showin'  up,  he  rolls  into  the 
Red  Light,  lurches  fat  an*  heavy  up  ag'in  the  counter, 
an'  shouts: 

"'My  name's  Bass  Drum  Bowlby,  an'  I  invites  every 
gent  to  take  a  drink.  Them  who  don't  drink  is  welcome 
to  a  dollar  out  of  the  drawer/ 

"Followin'  the  libation,  Bass  Drum  goin'  more  into 
details,  makes  himse'f  heard  ag'in.  'For  two  years,' 
says  he,  'I've  been  pirootin'  'round  between  the  Rio 
Colorado  an'  the  Spanish  Peaks.  Which  I'm  shore 
wedded  to  the  West!  Likewise,  the  reason  I  loves  the 
West  is  it's  a  fraud.  That's  whatever;  thar  ain't  a  play 

264 


THE  COPPER  HEAD  . 

comes  off  on  the  sundown  side  of  the  Missouri  which 
you-all  can  p'int  to  as  bein'  on  the  level!  Thar  ain't 
a  fact  or  a  concloosion  on  the  genyooinness  of  which 
you  could  wager  a  white  chip.' 

"'Be  you  plumb  certain ?'  asks  Jack  Moore.  'Now 
it's  my  belief  that  every  gent  in  the  room  has  got  a  car 
tridge  belt  full  of  indespootable  facts;  an',  if  aColt's-45 
aint  a  concloosion,  I  shore  don't  know  what  is.' 

"'For  heaven's  sake!'  exclaims  Bass  Drum,  evincin' 
concern, '  don't  talk  gun  talk.  My  only  thought  is  to  pay 
the  West  some  compliments.  I  only  says  the  West's 
a  fraud  that  a-way  as  offerin'  encomiyums.  Which  I  am 
somewhat  of  a  fraud  myse'f ;  an'  I  onhesitatin'ly  informs 
mankind  that,  at  my  fact'ry  back  East,  I  ain't  doin'  a 
thing  in  a  lowly  way  but  makin'  goose-ha'r  mattrasses 
out  o*  wood  pulp — not  only  makin'  'em  gents,  but  sellin' 
'em.  Two  years  ago  though,  as  I  informs  you-all 
prior,  I  gets  wedded  to  the  West,  an'  never  does  go  back 
East  no  more.  I  simply  stays  yere,  an'  permits  that 
fraudyoolent  wood-pulp,  goose-ha'r  mattrass  fact'ry  to 
run  itse'f.' 

"'He  talks/  growls  Texas  to  Boggs,  'of  bein'  wedded 
to  the  West:  an'  then  evolves  a  howl  that  the  West's  a 
fraud.  Which  he  better  try  some  reg'lar  lady  once ! ' 

'"May  I  ask,'  puts  in  Enright,  addressin'  Bass  Drum 
plenty  suave  an'  bland,  'whatever  brings  about  them 
nuptials?' 

'"It's  in  Vegas,'  says  Bass  Drum;  'I'm  jest  in  from  the 
East,  an'  headed  for  the  Vegas  Hot  Springs.  I  piles 
out  of  the  kyars;  a  party,  name  unknown,  throws  me 
18  265 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

into  a  hack.  "Plaza  Hotel,"  says  I.  Ten  minutes 
later  we're  at  that  car'vansary.  "How  much?"  says  I. 
"Twenty  plunks,"  says  he.  "Shake!"  says  I,  as  I 
pays  over  the  twenty  bones.  "This  is  where  I  stay. 
A  country  in  which  you  can  make  twenty  dollars  in  ten 
minutes  is  good  enough  for  me!"  An'  so  I  goes  roman- 
cin*  along  in  an'  registers,  meanwhile  singin'  "This  yere's 
the  place  I  long  have  sought,  an'  mourned  because  I 
found  it  not."  Gents,  I've  been  part  of  the  West  ever 
since.' 

"'An'  prosperin'  I  reckons?'  says  Peets. 

"'Not  exactly  prosperin','  returns  Bass  Drum,  startin' 
the  nosepaint  on  a  second  trip;  'not  altogether  prosperin'; 
but  learnin'  a  whole  lot.  Bein'  the  other  day  in  Silver 
City,  I  hears  of  this  camp;  an'  the  more  I  hears  the  better 
it  sounds.  At  last  I  allows  I'll  break  in,  look  you-all 
stingin*  lizards  over,  an'  mebby  make  investments.' 

"'Investments?'  remarks  Enright;  'in  cattle,  do 
you  say?' 

"'Not  cattle,'  returns  Bass  Drum,  wipin'  his  lips; 
'which  I  gets  fully  through  with  cattle  over  back  of  San 
Marcial  towards  the  Black  Range.  You  knows  old 
Axtell  of  the  Triangle  X?  Bought  a  thousand  head  of 
that  old  outlaw,  thirty  dollars  per.  He  builds  a  chute, 
drives  up  the  thousand  cows,  runs  'em  through,  claps  the 
redhot  iron  on  'em,  counter-brands  'em  "C-in-a-box" 
the  new  mark  I  invents.  Thar  they  be  gents,  back  on  the 
range  ag'in; — a  thousand  head  of  C-in-a-box  cows,  an' 
that  cimarron  Axtell  countiri'  my  little  old  thirty  thou 
sand  simoleons !  Do  I  come  forth  onscathed  ?  Gents, 

266 


THE  COPPER  HEAD 

listen!  In  two  months  I  ain't  got  twenty  head.  That 
C-in-a-box  brand  ain't  nothin'  but  a  ha'r  brand;  it  all 
grows  out  afresh,  an'  them  cattle  returns  poco  tiempo  to 
their  old-time  Triangle  X  form.  Oh!  you  bet  I'm 
learning  No  more  bovines  for  Bass  Drum!  This  time 
I  aims  to  break  my  guileless  teeth  on  mines.  If  thar's 
any  sport  within  hearin'  of  my  loud  bazoo,  who's  got  a 
salted  mine,  let  him  prepare  for  the  feast.  Yere  I  stands 
in  my  ignorance,  his  nacheral  born  prey!' 

"Sayin*  which,  Bass  Drum  beats  his  breast  ontil  it 
booms,  while  his  eyebrows  work  up  an'  down  like  one  of 
them  gorillas." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   SALTING    OF  THE   GOLDEN    RULE 

IT  looks  as  though  Bass  Drum  paves  the  way  for  his 
own  deestruction.  The  Copper  Head,  drawn  by  the 
exyooberant  an'  far-reachin'  tones  of  Bass  Drum's, 
is  hoverin'  about  the  portals  of  the  Red  Light  at  the  time. 
He  don't  come  inside  none,  Cherokee  bein'  back  of  his 
lay-out  an'  the  Copper  Head  ownin'  a  mem'ry.  Pres 
ently  he  disappears;  an',  while  his  comin'  and  goin' 
don't  leave  no  profound  impressions  on  me  at  the  mo 
ment,  I  thinks  of  it  afterwards  a  whole  lot. 

"Bass  Drum  pervades  the  camp  in  an'  out  for  sev'ral 
days,  an*  so  far  as  I  hears  gets  proper  action  for  what 
dinero  he  puts  in  cirkyoolation.  One  evenin',  when  we're 
wrastlin'  our  chuck  at  the  O.  K.  House — Rucker  attendin' 
on  our  wants  as  waiter — Texas  asks  over  his  shoulder: 

" '  Whar's  that  Copper  Head  compadre  of  yours,  Rucker  ? 
I  ain't  seen  him  round  none  for  four  days  ?' 

"'Well/  snarls  Rucker,  who's  testy  an*  spiteful  on 
account  of  him  being  redooced  to  a  servile  p'sition,  'you 
don't  reckon  I  kills  an'  eats  him,  does  you?' 

"'Don't  wax  gala,  Rucker,'  returns  Texas,  mighty 
high  an'  cautionary,  'or  the  next  time  Doc  Peets  wants 
a  skeleton  to  play  hoss  with  scientific,  I'll  shore  preesent 
him  yours.  You-all  would  furnish  a  fairly  person'ble 

268 


THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 

skeleton  that  a- way;  what  ever  do  you  yourse'f  think, 
Doc?' 

"'He'll  do/  says  Peets,  runnin'  Rucker  over  kind  o' 
critical,  like  he's  a  hoss  an'  him,  Peets,  is  goin'  to  buy  him. 
'To  be  shore,  Rucker  wouldn't  afford  no  skeleton  of 
highest  grade,  not  one  of  these  yere  top-notch  corn-fed 
skeletons;  but  he'd  match  in  plumb  successful  between  a 
Mexican  an'  a  Digger  Injun,  as  completin'  a  chain.' 

"'You-all  asks  about  the  Copper  Head?'  says 
Rucker  to  Texas,  a  heap  subdooed;  for  the  way  Texas  an' 
Peets  goes  bulgin'  off  about  skeletons  almost  brings  on 
him  a  fit  of  the  treemors.  'Which  he's  gone  to  minin' 
over  in  Colorow  Gulch.  Thar's  that  prospect  Chicken 
Bill  abandons;  the  Copper  Head  re-files  on  it  as  the 
"Golden  Roole,"  an'  is  deevelopin'  the  same.' 

"'Whoever  is  this  yere  enterprisin'  Copper  Head?' 
asks  Bass  Drum  of  Cherokee. 

"'Which  he's  a  bad-mannered  miscreent,'  returns 
Cherokee, '  who  if  asked  to  set  into  a  game  of  freeze-out 
for  two  dollars  worth  of  brains  a  corner,  couldn't  even 
meet  the  ante.' 

'"The  more  weak-witted,'  says  Bass  Drum,  'the  better; 
less  brains,  more  luck.  It  takes  a  eediot  to  find  a  mine. 
Which  I'll  look  this  bullhead  up  some;  if  he's  struck  any 
thing  good  I'll  take  it  away  from  him.'  Then,  to  Rucker, 
who's  staggerin'  in  from  the  kitchen  with  a  passel  of  dry- 
apple  pies:  'How  about  this  yere  Golden  Roole  mine? 
What  for  a  prospect  is  it?' 

"All  I  knows,'  returns  Rucker,  'is  that  the  Copper 
Head  sends  what  he  calls  a  "mill  run"  over  to  Silver  City 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

for  a  assay,  an*  it  shows  eight  hundred  dollars  to  the 
ton/ 

"  *  Whoever  says  sech  things  as  that/  retorts  Bass  Drum, 
'is  conversin'  through  his  sombrero.  Thar  ain't  no  sech 
ore  in  Arizona/ 

"While  I  don't  savey  mines  none,  I'm  plenty  sapient 
when  it  comes  to  men,  an'  I  sees,  for  all  his  bluff  front, 
Bass  Drum  is  a  heap  struck.  The  next  mornin'  he  hires 
Rucker  of  Missis  Rucker,  to  show  him  where  the  Golden 
Roole  is  located.  It's  over  to'ards  Red  Dog  in  Colorow 
Gulch,  an'  Rucker  an'  Bass  Drum  finds  the  Copper  Head 
idlin*  about  in  the  drift.  He  an'  his  Golden  Roole 
mine  is  a  heap  alone  that  a-way,  an'  never  another 
prospect  within  a  half  dozen  miles. 

"As  Bass  Drum  an'  Rucker  draws  near,  they  hears  the 
Copper  Head  singin'  a  church  toone,  that  one  about 
'India's  Golden  Sands/ 

"'Is  this  onder-done  party  religious?'  whispers  Bass 
Drum. 

"'Religious?'  says  Rucker.  'Which  I  only  wishes 
I  has  four  bits  for  every  pray'r  he's  flung  off!  I  should 
say  he  is  religious!  Thar's  members  of  the  clergy  who 
ain't  ace-high  to  the  Copper  Head.  But  see  yere/ 
continues  Rucker,  detainin'  Bass  Drum  by  the  arm, 
'  don't  you  go  sayin'  nothin'  about  that  assay.  Mebby  he 
ain't  ready  to  have  it  brooited  abroad  as  yet/ 

"'Fear  not!'  returns  Bass  Drum;  'my  little  game  don't 
inclood  me  tellin'  him  things/ 

"Right  yere,  the  onconscious  Copper  Head  pours  out 
his  soul  afresh: 

270 


THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 

"'From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 
To  India's  golden  sands; 
Where  Africk's  sunny  fountains 
Rolls  down  them  coral  strands.' 

"'Which  he's  singin'  all  wrong!'  whispers  Bass  Drum, 
disgusted;  'that  of  itse'f  shows  his  mem'ry  to  be  wabbly 
in  its  knees.  Which  if  he  can't  think  any  better'n  he  can 
sing,  he'll  be  plumb  easy!  Religious,  too,  you  says? 
The  shore  mark  of  weakness!  Look  at  me!'  Yere 
Bass  Drum  lapses  into  his  pastime  of  thumpin'  his  bosom. 
'Look  at  me  an'  wonder! — six  feet  tall,  an'  a  chest  like  a 
hoss !  This  Copper  Head,  bein'  off  his  feet  religious,  shows 
he's  of  a  flimsy,  clingin'  vine-like  nacher,  an'  no  more  back 
bone  to  him  than  a  wet  lariat.  A  robust  sport  like  me,  who 
knows  his  way  through,  plays  tag  with  sech  a  weaklin'.' 

"Bass  Drum  an'  Rucker  deecends  on  the  Copper 
Head,  an*  the  Bass  Drum  says:  'How  thar,  pard!' 

"The  Copper  Head  gives  a  nervous  start,  an'  looks 
'round  with  his  red  ferretty  eyes. 

"'How!'  says  the  Copper  Head.  Then,  beholdin' 
Rucker: — 'Whatever  be  you-all  doin','  he  asks,  'so  far 
from  your  dooties  ?  You  ain't  had  time  none* — glancing 
at  the  sun — 'to  get  your  noon-day  dishes  washed.' 

"Rucker  at  these  slights  grows  some  heated,  but  says 
nothin',  fearful  what  bluffs  he  makes  gets  back  to  Misses 
Rucker.  Bass  Drum,  however,  relieves  him  by  takin' 
up  the  talk. 

'"Struck  somethin'  rich?'  he  asks.  'Which  if  it's 
good  I'll  buy  it.' 

"Friend,'    returns    the    Copper    Head,    honest    an' 
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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

deprecatory,  an*  runnin'  his  oncertain  fingers  through  his 
bird-dog  ha'r,  'this  yere's  but  a  barren  prospect,  I  fears; 
I'm  none  convinced  of  its  valyoo.  It's  not  for  me  to 
deloode  the  onwary,  an'  I  shall  avoid  offers  ontil  I  be. 
That's  why  I  names  it  the  Golden  Roole.' 

"Thar's  a  queer  greenish-yellow  look  to  the  gray  face  of 
the  rock,  an'  a  sharp  smell  in  the  air  that  tickles  the  nos 
trils  like  hartshorn.  Bass  Drum  wrinkles  up  his  nose 
sympathetic,  an'  wipes  the  water  from  his  eyes;  to  which 
man'festations  the  Copper  Head  responds  like  they're 
queries.  I, 

"'What  you-all  smells,'  says  he,  'is  a  prep 'ration  for 
softenin'  the  rock.  It's  somethin'  like  embalmin' 
flooid;  I  gets  onto  it  when  I'm  in  the  ondertaking  line. 
It's  what  gives  the  rock  that  green-yellow  tinge.  She 
shore  does  soften  it  up  a  whole  lot,  however;  the  drillin' 
and  diggin'  is  redooced  by  half.' 

"As  the  Copper  Head  gets  off  this  yere  explanation, 
he  oncovers  a  big  glass  bottle,  holdin'  about  a  gallon, 
where  it's  lyin'  hid  beneath  his  coat.  Thar's  a  rubber 
stopper.  The  Copper  Head  picks  up  the  bottle,  an'  hand 
les  it  as  if  it's  filled  with  centipedes  an'  each  clamorous 
for  p'isenous  action.  Both  Bass  Drum  an'  Rucker 
notice  how  it's  half  full  of  a  liquid  of  a  greenish-yellow 
color,  to  match  the  pecooliar  hue  of  the  rock  face. 

"It's  a  heap  vol'tile,' observes  the  Copper  Head/ an'  I 
has  to  keep  it  tight  corked.  I  spills  out  what  I  uses  as  I 
goes  along.' 

"Sayin'  which,  the  Copper  Head  slops  out  about  a 
pint  into  a  glazed  earthern  dish,  with  the  needfulness 

272 


THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 

of  b'ilin'  oil.  Then  he  sops  it  up  with  a  bresh,  an* 
paints  away  at  the  rock  face  same  as  though  he's  white- 
washin'  a  fence. 

"'An  does  that  soften  the  rock?'  asks  Bass  Drum, 
sort  o'  held  by  the  exhibition. 

'" Leaves  it  like  so  much  cheese!'  returns  the  Copper 
Head,  white- washin'  away  mighty  sedyoolous. 

"'What's  that  embalmin'  mixchoor  composed  of?' 
asks  Bass  Drum  ag'in,  at  the  same  time  rubbin'  his  nose 
an'  eyes,  the  fumes  growin'  doubly  acrid  while  the  Copper 
Head  works. 

"'What's  it  composed  of?'  repeats  the  Copper  Head. 
Then  he  shets  one  eye,  an'  grins  both  feeble  an'  deerisive. 
If  it  ain't  for  his  liver-colored  ha'r,  you  might  think  he's 
a  sheep  trying  to  assoome  a  foxy  look.  'Excoose  me!' 
he  says,  'that's  my  little  hold-out.' 

"Bass  Drum  don't  press  the  business  of  the  embalmin' 
flooid,  but  la'nches  out  into  what  he  calls  a  'train  of 
argyooment,'  calk'lated  to  make  cl'ar  how  he  ain't  got 
time  to  wait  the  slow  onfoldment  of  the  Golden  Roole. 
The  best  he  can  say  is  he's  jest  now  squanderin'  round 
on  a  hunt  for  a  mine,  an',  if  the  Copper  Head'll  furnish 
him  what  spec'mens  he  wants,  he'll  have  a  assay  made 
an'  mebby  buy. 

"The  Copper  Head  listens,  his  lank  jaw  ajar  as  if  he 
ain't  got  force  of  char'cter  s'fficient  to  shet  his  mouth. 
Bass  Drum  talks  on,  all  sperit  an'  bustle  an'  business, 
while  the  dazed  Copper  Head  hangs  back  in  the  breechin', 
like  a  dull  mule  at  a  quicksand  crossin'. 

'"I  ain't  ready  none  to  deal,'  the  Copper  Head  protests 
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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

final.  'Sellin'  a  pig  in  a  poke  is  as  bad  a  buyin'  a  pig  in 
a  poke.  Yere  I  be,  plumb  ignorant  whether  I  have 
somethin'  or  nothin';  an'  you-all  comes  bushwackin' 
'round  an'  talks  of  buyin'  me  out.' 

"'Not  before  a  assay,  onderstand,'  returns  Bass  Drum. 
'  Most  likely  this  yere  rock  ain't  got  no  more  gold  into  it 
than  grindstones.' 

"'Well,  I  shore  don't  know!'  returns  Copper  Head, 
crackin'  the  j'ints  of  his  knobby  fingers  ontil  they  sounds 
like  cockin'  a  Winchester.  'Whatever  is  your  advice, 
Mister  Rucker?' 

"Bass  Drum  winks  his  nigh  eye  at  Rucker  as  sayin' 
thar's  somethin'  in  it  for  him,  an'  Rucker  tharupon 
yoonites  his  voice  to  Bass  Drum's. 

"'What  harm,'  he  says,  'to  let  him  get  a  assay?' 

"With  both  of  'em  ag'inst  him,  the  reluctant  Copper 
Head  at  lasts  consents.  A  blast  is  put  in,  an'  fifty  pounds 
of  spec'mens  knocked  off  the  rock  face. 

"Bass  Drum  prodooces  a  dozen  buckskin  pouches  from 
the  warbags  on  his  pony. 

"'You  observes,'  he  remarks  to  the  Copper  Head,  'I 
travels  preepared.' 

"Bass  Drum  fills  the  buckskin  pouches,  ties  'em  up 
tight,  an'  swings  'em  half  an'  half  across  the  horn  of  his 
saddle,  the  Copper  Head  eyein'  proceeding  with  a 
doobious  air. 

"I  reckon  it's  all  right,'  he  remarks,  like  he's  tryin' 
to  convince  himse'f.  'I  lets  a  couple  of  mav'ricks  from 
Tucson  have  a  hatful  yesterday,  an'  tharfore  why  not 
you?' 

274 


THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 

"Bass  Drum  pricks  up  his  y'ears,  smellin'  rivals. 
'Which  I'll  start  these  bags/  he  says,  'for  Silver  City  this 
evenin'.  Meanwhile,  stand  them  Tucson  hold-ups  off. 
If  they're  the  sharps  I  thinks  they  be,  they'll  do  you  out  o' 
your  eye  teeth.  Give  'em  so  much  as  a  toe-hold  any 
where,  an*  they'll  steal  everything  but  the  back  fence.' 

"That  evenin',  about  sixth  drink  time,  Bass  Drum 
grows  confidential  with  Peets. 

"'It's  like  playin'  seven-up  with  a  babe  onweaned,' 
he  says.  'Still,  it  ain't  as  if  this  Copper  Head  is  otherwise 
safe.  Which  I  don't  mind  confessing  I'd  shore  hesitate 
to  lay  him  waste,  only  if  I  don't  rob  him  some  more 
hardened  party  will.' 

"'Don't  his  bein'  religious,'  asks  Peets,  'sort  o'  op'rate 
to  stay  your  devastatin*  hand?  Or  be  your  wars  of 
commerce  waged  equal  ag'inst  both  believer  and  onbe- 
liever?' 

"'At  the  game  of  dollar-chasin','  responds  Bass  Drum, 
mighty  cocky, '  believers  or  onbelievers,  Jews  or  Gentiles, 
it's  all  one  to  me.  Whenever  I  gets  ready  to  throw  a 
stone,  you  bet  I  ain't  carin'  wheether  it  hits  a  grog  shop  or 
a  church.' 

' '  To  be  shore,'  observes  Tutt,  when  later  he's  discussin' 
matters  with  Peets  an'  Texas,  'I  ain't  no  use  for  that 
Copper  Head;  an*  yet  I  asks  myse'f  be  we  jestified  in  per- 
mittin'  this  over-powerin'  Bass  Drum  to  strip  that  fee- 
bliest  of  his  all?' 

' '  Dave,'  returns  Peets, '  I  regyards  your  excitement  as 
misplaced.  If  you  has  tears  to  shed,  reeserve  'em  for  that 
vain-glorious  Bass  Drum.' 

275 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Three  days,  an'  Bass  Drum  gets  the  returns  from 
Silver  City.  The  fifty  pounds  of  ore  shows  forty  dollars 
— sixteen  hundred  dollars  to  the  ton!  Bass  Drum's  ha'r 
assooms  the  perpendicular,  he's  that  scared  lest  them 
Tucson  coyotes  gets  a  prior  move  on,  an*  beats  him 
to  it. 

"As  fast  as  pony  can  drum  the  ground,  Bass  Drum 
goes  surgin'  over  to  Red  Dog.  The  Copper  Head  hes 
itates  an'  hangs  back;  he  wants  to  hear  from  them  Tucson 
parties,  he  says,  who  gets  the  hatful  of  spec'mens.  Bass 
Drum  won't  hear  to  it,  but  crowds  the  Copper  Head's 
irresoloote  hand,  namin'  two  thousand  dollars. 

"An*  at  that,'  observes  Bass  Drum  when,  a  month 
later,  he's  roofully  recountin'  his  financial  wounds  to 
Peets  an*  Enright  that  a- way,  'if  I  has  a  lick  of  sense,  I 
ought  to  have  remembered  that,  with  the  eight  hundred 
dollar  assay  Rucker  speaks  of  former,  this  Copper  Head 
must  shore  possess  some  half-way  notion  of  where  he's 
at.  But  no;  thar  I  go  cavortin'  to  deestruction  like  a 
bar'l  down  hill!  Congratchoolatin'  myse'f,  too,  on  my 
sooperhooman  cunnin',  when  I  evades  his  queries  as  to 
how  that  last  assay  turns  out !  Gents,  I  knows  burros  of 
inferior  standin',  who  in  intellects  could  give  me  kyards 
an'  spades!' 

"  When  Bass  Drum  says  two  thousand,  the  Copper  Head 
falls  into  a  brown  study.  The  longer  he  studies,  the 
sadder  an'  more  sorrowful  he  gets. 

"'It's  all  wrong!'  he  says  at  last.  'I'll  never  yere- 
after  see  the  hour  when  the  gnawin'  tooth  of  conscience'll 
be  still!'  An'  yet,  if  I  must  sin,  let  it  not  be  for  no 

276 


THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 

bagatelles,  which  I'll  shore  refoose  to  sell  my  soul  for  a 
paltry  two  thousand.  Say  forty  thousand,  an*  doubtless 
the  temptation'll  be  more  than  I  can  b'ar.' 

"Bass  Drum  sweats  an' froths  an' argues, but  he's  up 
ag'inst  it.  The  eediotic  Copper  Head,  with  the  pertinac- 
'ty  of  weakminded  folks,  holds  by  that  forty  thousand 
like  it's  the  rock  of  his  last  hope. 

"'With  forty  thousand  in  my  grasp,'  says  the  Copper 
Head,  'I  returns  East,  re-enters  the  ondertakin'  profes 
sion,  resoomes  my  rightful  place  on  the  front  seat  of  a 
hearse,  an'  lifts  up  my  diminished  head  as  of  yore. 
That's  the  rigger,  forty  thousand;  an'  not  a  nickle 
less!' 

"Thar's  nothin'  else  to  do;  Bass  Drum  yields,  an'  him 
an'  the  Copper  Head  goes  over  to  Tucson,  where  he  en 
dows  that  red-ha'red  reptile  with  eight  five-thousand 
dollar  bills.  Inside  of  no  time,  the  Copper  Head  is  a 
thing  of  the  Tucson- Wolfville  past. 

"It  takes  a  fortnight  for  Bass  Drum  to  convince  him- 
se'f  thar  ain't  as  much  treasure  to  be  extracted  from  the 
Golden  Roole,  as  should  belong  in  the  bank-roll  behind 
a  ten  cent  game  of  Mexican  monte.  For  a  moment 
he's  hotter'n  a  fire  in  a  lard  fact'ry.  Then  he  simmers 
down. 

"'Gents,'  says  he,  'I'm  stuck!  That  Golden  Roole's 
a  deadfall!  Between  old  Axtell  an'  his  ha'r  brands,  an' 
this  yere  Copper  Head  an'  his  salted  mines,  it'll  take  a 
forest  of  sprooce,  worked  up  into  goose-ha'r  mattrasses, 
to  reestore  my  fallen  fortunes.' 

"Salt  a  mine!'  exclaims  Enright.  'That  egree- 
277 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

gious  Copper  Head  don't  look  like  he's  equal  to  sal  tin1 
sheep!  I  shore  marvels  how  he  does  it!' 

"Pete  Bland,  the  Red  Dog  boniface  at  whose  flapjack 
foundry  the  Copper  Head's  been  hangin'  out,  brings  over 
a  gallon  bottle  with  a  rubber  stopper  to  Peets.  He  finds 
it,  he  says,  in  the  Copper  Head's  former  room.  It's 
filled  with  the  same  greenish-yellow  liquid,  wharwith  the 
Copper  Head  is  doctorin'  the  Golden  Roole,  when  Bass 
Drum  an'  Rucker  surprises  him  at  his  labors.  The 
question  is,  can  Peets  as  a  scientific  sharp  identify  the 
same? 

"Peets  oncorks  the  bottle,  takes  a  sniff,  an'  bats  a 
tearful  eye: — 

"' Chlorine!'  says  he. 

"Then  he  pours  about  a  pint  into  a  wide  glass  dish. 
In  half  an  hour  or  less,  it's  took  to  itse'f  wings  an'  evap 
orated. 

"Thar's  enough  sediment  remainin'  to  fill  two  table 
spoons.  Peets  puts  it  into  a  bowl,  an'  fills  the  bowl  up 
with  water.  Then  he  twists  an'  tosses  an'  whirls  an' 
slops  away  at  it,  same  as  if  he's  pannin'  out  gold.  That's 
what  it  comes  to;  he  cleans  up  enough  dust  to  make  a 
ten-dollar  gold  piece. 

"  Bass  Drum  has  already  posted  Peets  how  the  Copper 
Head  white-washes  away  at  the  rock  face,  an'  Peets  gets 
a  bresh  and  tries  a  quart  of  the  embalmin'  flooid  on  a 
round  hard  rock,  the  size  of  a  water  melon,  which  is  lyin' 
in  front  of  the  New  York  Store.  The  results  is  highly 
gratifyin';  the  stone  sucks  up  that  embalmin'  flooid 
like  it's  a  sponge,  thirstily  gettin'  away  with  the  entire 

278 


THE  SALTING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RULE 

quart.  Also  it  turns  that  same  good  old  greenish-yellow 
color. 

"When  the  stone  has  done  drunk  up  its  quart,  Peets 
regyards  it  plenty  thoughtful. 

"'By  what  that  pint  pans  out/  he  says,  'thar  should  be 
twenty  dollars  worth  of  gold  in  this  yere  dornick!' 

"Which  the  subsequent  assay  proves  said  surmise  to 
be  c'rrect. 

"Thar's  mebby  a  pint  remainin*  of  the  embalmin' 
flooid,  an'  Peets  cuts  loose  chem'cal,  an'  subjects  it  to 
exper'ments. 

"'An'  at  that,  Sam,'  says  Peets  to  Enright  at  the  wind- 
up,  'I  can't  say  what  it  wholly  is!  Thar's  this,  however: 
It  contains,  among  other  things,  chloric  acid  with  king's 
water,  which  last  is  a  comb'nation  of  sulphooric  an' 
nitric  acids.  The  proportion  of  ox'gyn,  thus  secoored, 
is  so  tremenjus  it  makes  no  more  of  eatin'  up  forty  dollars 
worth  of  gold  to  the  gallon,  than  a  colored  camp  meetin' 
would  of  eatin'  up  forty  yellow-laigged  chickens.  Also, 
it's  so  penetratin'  it'll  carry  the  gold  through  eighteen 
inches  of  solid  rock.  Gents,  we've  been  entertainin' 
a  angel  onawares.  That  Copper  Head  person  is  a  genius; 
he  has  raised  mine-saltin'  to  the  plane  of  art.' 

"It's  two  years  before  we  ag'in  hears  of  the  Copper 
Head.  A  waif-word  wanders  up  from  Rincon  that  some 
deservin'  party  opens  on  him,  low  and  satisfact'ry,  with 
a  ten  guage  Greener  shot  gun,  twenty-one  buckshot  to 
the  shell,  an'  bombards  him  into  the  heavenly  land  of 
many  mansions,  where  the  come-ons  cease  from  troub- 
lin'  an'  the  mine-salter  is  at  rest.  The  vig'lance  commit- 

279 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

tee,  which  considers  the  case,  sustains  the  action  of 
Cherokee  that  time  in  eejectin'  the  Copper  Head  from 
the  Red  Light;  since  it  exculpates  the  accoosed  shot-gun 
gent,  on  the  grounds  that  the  Copper  Head  is  lookin* 
at  his  wife." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   WISDOM    OF   DOC    PEETS 

MOST  likely,"  observed  the  old  gentleman,  spear 
ing  at  me  with  his  pipe-stem  to  invoke  at 
tention,  "you  never  is  aware  of  it  none, 
but  the  thing  that  wearies  the  West  as  a  region 
plumb  to  death,  is  the  onlicensed  air  of  patronage  an* 
high  conceit  adopted  towards  it  by  the  East.  Which  it's 
this  yere,  ondoubted,  that  eggs  us  on,  when  we  plays  it 
so  low  down  on  Professor  De  Puff  it  sends  that  phree- 
nol'gist,  scamperin'  an*  skallyhootin'  into  Tucson  all 
spraddled  out,  eyes  protroodin'  like  the  horns  on  a  year- 
lin'  bull — which  you  could  knock  'em  off  with  a  club — to 
go  pantin'  forth  a  white-faced  tale  of  how  Wolfville's 
done  been  abolished  in  consoomin'  flames  an'  smoke. 

"For  myse'f,  I  always  attribyootes  this  yere  Eastern 
conceit  to  ignorance  that  a- way,  a  attitood  wharin  I'm 
sustained  by  Doc  Peets. 

"'The  yawnin'  peril  to  this  nation,'  says  Peets,  as 
we're  loiterin'  over  our  drinks  one  Red  Light  evenin', 
'is  the  ignorance  of  the  East.  Thar's  folks  back  thar, 
speshully  in  Noo  York,  who  with  their  oninstructed  backs 
to  the  settin'  sun,  don't  even  know  thar  is  a  West.  Like 
wise,  they're  proud  as  peacocks  of  their  want  of  knowl 
edge.  They'd  feel  plenty  ashamed  to  be  caught  knowin' 
19  281 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

anything  on  the  Rocky  Mountain  side  of  the  Hudson 
River.' 

"Is  Peets  deep?  Son,  you  astounds  me!  Solomon 
could  have  made  the  killin'  of  his  c'rreer  by  simply  goin' 
to  school  to  Peets.  That  scientist  is  equal  to  everything 
except  the  impossible.  An'  when  it  comes  to  philosophic 
deeductions  that  a-way,  you're  jestified  in  spreadin'  your 
big  bets  on  whatever  Peets  hands  out. 

"As  sheddin'  a  ray,  let  me  step  one  side  of  the  direct 
trail  of  this  yere  narrative  to  tell  you  what  Peets  does. 
He  actchooally  reyoonites  Tucson  Jennie  an'  Soap  Suds 
Sal  in  bonds  of  amity,  the  time  they  falls  out  an'  gets 
their  mootual  horns  locked — walks  right  up  to  them 
contendin'  ladies,  Peets  does,  an'  reasons  with  'em,  at 
a  moment  too  when  the  gamest  gent  in  camp  don't  dare 
go  near  enough  to  one  of  'em  to  hand  her  a  diamond  ring! 

"It's  this  a-way:  Soap  Suds  Sal,  as  I  relates,  weds 
Riley  Brooks.  Bein'  thus  moved  up  into  p'sition  as  a 
married  lady  affects  Sal;  she  feels  the  change,  an'  takes 
to  puttin'  on  dog  immod'rate.  This  yere  haughtiness 
provokes  Tucson  Jennie,  who's  a  wife  of  sev'ral  years 
standin',  an'  nacherally  she  goes  to  the  floor  with  Sal. 
Of  course,  you  onderstands  I  means  verbal — thar's  nothin' 
so  onladylike  as  physical  voylence. 

"Peets  happens  to  be  across  in  Red  Dog,  but  Enright 
dispatches  Boggs  to  tell  him  to  come  a-runnin'.  He 
looks  a  trifle  doobious,  I  admits,  when  he  hears. 

"'Does  either  of  'em  call  the  other  "ugly"  Nell?' 
he  asks  some  anxious  of  Faro  Nell,  who's  been  hoverin' 
over  the  fracas  throughout. 

282 


THE  WISDOM  OF  DOC  PEETS 

"'Oh  no,'  says  Nell;  'they  don't  say  nothin'  about 
looks.' 

"'Or  "old"?'  goes  on  Peets. 

"'No,'  returns  Nell,  'they  ain't  got  to  ages  none  as  yet, 
but  Sal's  workin'  herse'f  up  to  it.' 

"Peets  heaves  a  sigh  of  relief.  'It's  all  right,  gents,' 
he  says,  sort  o'  cl'arin'  up;  'I  thinks  I  sees  my  way 
through  to  bring  'em  together  ag'in  in  peace  an* 
love.' 

"Which  Peets  does;  Missis  Rucker  an'  Faro  Nell 
backin'  the  play  with  handkerchiefs,  to  pass  Sal  an' 
Tucson  Jennie  when  they  bursts  into  tears. 

'"Whatever's  the  matter  of  the  East,  Doc?'  asks 
Boggs  that  evenin'  in  the  Red  Light. '  Why  should  it  turn 
its  fool  back  on  us  ? ' 

'"The  cause,  Dan,'  says  Peets,  'lies  deep  in  the  heart 
of  things.  The  big  trouble  with  the  East  is  it's  not  only 
ignorant,  like  I  says,  but  ignorant  in  a  pin-head  way  of 
se'f  importance.  It'll  prance  forth  an'  look  the  West 
over,  towerist  fashion,  through  the  distortin'  medium 
of  a  Pullman  kyar  window,  an'  go  back  bent  double 
onder  the  idee  it's  got  the  Western  picture  from  foretop  to 
fetlock.  Also,  it  never  seems  to  enter  its  egreegeous 
head  none  that,  while  it's  been  lookin'  the  West  over,  it's 
been  a  heap  looked  over  by  the  West.  The  East,  mental, 
is  onequal  to  graspin'  the  great  trooth  that  once  you've 
come  clost  enough  to  see  a  party,  you've  come  clost 
enough  to  be  seen,  an'  that  about  the  time  you  gets  onto 
some  deefect  in  another  gent,  he's  spotted  a  imperfec 
tion  or  two  in  you.' 

283 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'All  of  which/  interjects  Boggs,  mighty  satisfied, 
'is  plumb  loocid  an*  convincinV 

"'The  East  runs  all  the  resk  in  this/  goes  on  Peets, 
measurin'  out  his  little  old  forty  drops.  'Nacher  de 
mands  a  equilibrium.  To  be  ignorant,  that  a-way,  is 
to  be  in  danger;  to  let  folks  know  more  about  you  than 
you  knows  about  them,  is  a  step  towards  bein'  enslaved. 
Shore;  people  ain't  sent  to  jail  half  so  much  for  what 
they  do  as  for  what  they  don't  know.  To  keep  yourse'f 
plenty  posted  is  the  price  of  liberty.' 

"'That's  whatever!'  coincides  Boggs,  who's  as  faithful 
to  all  Peets  says  as  a  younger  brother. 

"'Moreover,  Dan/  concloodes  Peets,  'never  make 
the  Eastern  mistake  of  imaginin'  you've  got  the  only 
kodak  on  the  lawn.  While  the  East  is  snappin'  the  West, 
the  West  is  capturin'  the  East  for  onlimited  plates,  the 
merest  glimpses  of  which  would  send  that  besotted  corner 
of  the  yooniverse  tumblin'  from  its  perch.  Likewise, 
it  would  tharafter  roost  a  mighty  sight  nearer  the  ground.' 

"This  yere  Professor  De  Puff  is  a  case  in  Eastern 
p'int.  Enright  an*  Peets  is  both  away  from  camp  when 
he  drifts  in;  Peets  has  gone  romancin'  over  to  Prescott, 
while  Enright 's  trackin'  'round  up  to'ards  Albuquerqui 
about  a  cattle  deal.  Which  the  commoonal  scare 'ty 
of  them  gents  is  jest  as  well;  mighty  likely,  if  present, 
they  deeplores  the  way  we  wrings  amoosement  from  that 
phreenol'gist,  an'  wet-blankets  the  play. 

"It's  at  supper  in  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  that  the  Pro 
fessor  begins  to  reap  the  benefit  of  our  s'ciety.  We-all 
scouts  him  up  an'  down  out  of  the  corners  of  our  eyes,  an' 

284 


THE  WISDOM  OF  DOC  PEETS 

I  must  say  his  looks  is  ag'in  him.  He's  got  a  head  like  a 
melon,  an*  tilts  his  soopercilious  nose  as  though  he  smells 
a  orchard.  Also,  his  expression's  as  sour  an'  sodden  an* 
cold  as  a  clay  farm  in  the  month  of  March.  It's  cl'ar, 
too,  he  regyards  us  as  mere  four-laigged  beasts  of  the 
field,  whose  meeger  stock  of  information  is  confined  to 
the  knowledge  that  we're  alive. 

"While  Rucker  is  slammin*  viands  onto  the  table — 
Missis  Rucker  redooces  Rucker  to  the  ignoble  status  of  a 
waiter,  after  she  recovers  him  back  from  the  Apaches 
that  time — the  Professor's  glance  goes  rovin',  some 
lofty,  from  one  to  the  other  of  us,  his  manner  bespeakin* 
disdain.  Final,  he  sort  o'  culm'nates  on  Old  Monte, 
who's  down  by  the  end  of  the  table  with  Boggs. 

"' You're  married?'  says  he,  by  way  of  breakin' 
ground  for  a  talk,  p'intin'  meanwhile  at  Old  Monte  with 
a  three-tine  fork. 

"'Married?'  returns  Old  Monte,  gettin'  sort  o'  sore. 

"  That's  the  substance  of  my  remark/  observes  the 
Professor. 

"Well,  you  go  bet  the  limit,  sport,'  says  Old  Monte, 
harpoonin'  a  slice  of  ham  plenty  dexterous,  'that  any 
story  you  hears  about  me  bein'  married  is  exaggerated.' 

"Thar's  no  tellin'  what  the  Professor  is  aimin'  at  in 
them  observations,  Texas  Thompson  breakin'  in  with  a 
interruption.  Texas  is  camped  next  to  the  Professor. 
Also  the  milk,  that  Missis  Rucker  is  lavishin'  on  us,  is 
of  the  condensed  vari'ty.  Which  strange  as  it  may 
break  on  tenderfoot  y'ears,  the  three  sparse  things  in  a 
cow  country  is  butter,  beef  an'  milk— that  is,  shore- 

285 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

enough  milk.     Of  this  yere  stringy,  condensed,  patent- 
office  kind,  thar's  plenty  an'  to  spar*. 

"In  the  present  instance,  from  the  suspicious  way  the 
Professor  dallies  with  that  invention,  it's  plain  he's 
never  before  been  put  up  ag'inst  condensed  milk. 
Thar's  a  band  of  burros,  with  bed-slat  ribs  an'  all 
mighty  onkempt,  vis'ble  out  of  the  open  window,  the 
same  belongin'  to  a  Greaser  who's  brought  Missis 
Rucker  a  lay-out  of  mesquite  roots  for  her  stove.  Texas 
takes  advantage  of  this.  He  tastes  the  milk  kind  o' 
resentful,  an'  then  p'intedly  surveys  the  band  of  burros. 
At  last,  like  his  mind's  made  up,  he  leans  across  to  Cher 
okee,  an*  says  some  fierce: 

"'The  management  of  this  yere  hash  j'int  is  either 
goin'  to  feed  them  burros  more  nootritious  food,  or  I'll 
shore  inaug'rate  a  S'ciety  for  the  Preevention  of  Crooelty 
to  Boarders.  This  yere  milk  is  onfit  for  hooman  con 
sumption;  it  tastes  prickly,  like  it's  full  of  cactus  thorns.' 

"'Oh  I  don't  know/  responds  Cherokee,  in  his  p'lite 
way.  *  Which  this  milk  seems  good  to  me.  Anyhow, 
you  can't  tell  nothin'  by  them  burros'  exterior.' 

"Texas  keeps  on  tastin'  an'  grumblin',  an'  allowin' 
thar's  somethin*  off-color  about  that  milk. 

"'Does  it  hit  you  right,  pard?'  he  asks  at  last,  comin' 
round  on  the  Professor;  'you  bein'  direct  from  the  East, 
your  palate's  not  so  benumbed  an'  coarse  as  ours.' 

"While  Texas  is  sizin'  up  them  burros,  an'  carryin* 
on  so  plumb  bilious  about  the  milk,  the  Professor's  eyes 
is  beginin'  to  roll  oneasy;  he's  gettin'  pale  as  a  candle, 
an'  shows  faded  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

286 


THE  WISDOM  OF  DOC  PEETS 

"  As  Texas  tenders  the  condensed  milk,  he  starts  back 
as.  horrified  as  if  it's  a  trant'ler. 

"'Me?'  he  exclaims  givin'  a  shudderin'  glance  at  the 
frowsy,  bed-slat  burros.  '  I  never  assimilates  so  much  as 
a  drop  of  that  lacteel  flooid!'  Then  he  sighs  an'  shud 
ders  some  more,  all  plenty  reepugnant,  an*  says  doleful: 
'This  is  a  wretched  reepast!' 

"'Wretched!'  yells  Boggs,  from  down  at  the  end; 
'wretched!  What  miscreent  allows  this  yere  reepast  is 
wretched?  As  a  day-in-an'-day-out  guest  at  this  car'- 
vansary,  I  demands  he  be  p'inted  out/ 

" '  No  offence  is  designed,  sir/  says  the  Professor  some 
shook,  Boggs  bein'  that  big  an'  vehement;  'an'  I  appeals 
to  you,  as  a  onbiased  gent,  if  I'm  jestified  in  all  honesty 
in  namin'  this  a  best  reepast/ 

"'Well/  replies  Boggs,  lettin'  on  he's  strugglin'  to 
hold  himse'f  down,  'I  don't  want  to  crowd  no  sport  in 
deefiance  of  his  conscience.  Let  me  put  a  question; 
meanwhile,  warnin'  you-all  that  in  so  doin'  I'm  taxin' 
my  sens'bilities  to  the  utmost.  Assoomin'  as  you  says' 
— yere  Boggs  leans  his  elbows  on  the  table,  an'  gazes  at 
the  Professor  plumb  sinister — 'that  the  bounties  now 
freightin'  this  yere  board  comprises  a  wretched  reepast, 
I  asks  in  all  forbearance  be  you  willin'  to  confess  it's  still 
the  best  wretched  reepast  you  ever  tackles?' 

" '  Yes/  replies  the  Professor  after  a  pause,  an'  speakin' 
slow  an'  worried;  'I  thinks  I  may  adopt  your  verbiage, 
an'  deescribe  it  as  the  best  wretched  reepast  of  which  I 
recollects/ 

"Boggs  he'ps  himse'f  to  some  can  tomatters  like  he's 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

satisfied,  while  the  Professor  softly  shoves  his  cha'r  back 
an*  withdraws.  Later,  I  sees  him  t'arin'  into  smoked 
herrin's  an'  crackers  in  the  New  York  Store. 

"It's  Missis  Rucker  who  onfolds  to  us  how  the  Pro 
fessor's  goin'  to  give  a  lecture  on  phreenol'gy. 

"'He's  monstrous  sagacious,  that  a-way,'  says  Missis 
Rucker,  'an'  can  lay  b'ar  any  individyooal's  past,  pres 
ent  or  footure  by  simply  feelin'  his  bumps  a  whole  lot. 
I  believes  it,  too,  for  I  recalls  hearin'  Doc  Peets  say  thar's 
a  heap  in  phreenorgy.  I  reckons  I'll  have  him  thumb 
Rucker's  head  some.  My  husband's  always  been  a 
puzzle  to  me,  an'  yere's  a  chance  to  solve  the  myst'ry  of 
him.' 

"'Then  we  may  expect  you  at  the  exercises  this 
evenin'?'  remarks  Boggs,  lookin'  disapp'inted. 

" '  No,'  says  Missis  Rucker, '  I  regrets  I  can't  come  none. 
Little  Enright  Peets  has  done  been  took  with  the  measles, 
an'  Jen  invites  me  an'  Nell  yere  to  come  over  after  supper, 
for  comfort  an'  consultations.  I'll  ask  Dave  Tutt  to 
take  Rucker,  an'  ride  herd  on  him  while  the  Professor 
makes  a  round-up  of  his  bumps.  He'll  write  out  what 
he  finds  on  a  chart,  so  yereafter  I  has  it  ever  handy  when 
Rucker  deevelopes  a  new  kink.'" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE   LECTURE   IN   THE   LADY   GAY 

THIS  all  happens  way  back  in  the  earlier  hours  of 
the  camp,  when  Wolfville's  in  its  swaddlin'  clothes. 
The  Professor,  spyin'  about  for  a  hall,  pitches  on 
what's  left  of  the  old  Lady  Gay  S'loon.  Which  said 
structchoor  is  that  edifice  of  barn-boards  an'  sixteen- 
ounce  tent-cloth  our  long-ago  Colonel  slams  up,  when 
he  opens  shop  alongside  Hamilton's  dance  hall,  an' 
meanly  seeks  to  maverick  the  latter  gent's  toones,  an' 
pull  off  fandangoes  to  the  stolen  strains  of  his  fiddles. 
As  you  remembers,  that  pestif'rous  Colonel  economist 
don't  last;  an',  when  the  Professor  shows  up,  thar's  his 
empty  sheebang  preecisely  like  he  leaves  it.  Bein'  a 
money-savin'  soul,  an'  seein'  he  gets  the  Lady  Gay  for 
nothin',  the  Professor  announces  he'll  lecture — what  he 
calls  'Give  a  Readin" — tharin.  The  excitement  is 
schedyooled  for  second  drink  time  in  the  evenin*. 

"  By  behests  of  Missis  Rucker,  delivered  before  her  an' 
Faro  Nell  lines  out  to  see  about  them  measles  little  En- 
right  Peets  is  sufferin'  with,  Rucker  packs  in  a  table  an' 
all  the  cha'rs  from  the  O.  K.  House,  by  way  of  fittin'  up 
the  Lady  Gay  for  the  Professor.  The  table's  up  front, 
with  a  karosene  lamp  an'  a  skull,  the  skull  constitootin' 
part  of  the  Professor's  reg'lar  lay-out.  Thar's  four 

289 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

other  karosene  lamps  about  the  walls  which  gives  plenty 
of  light,  an*  all  a  heap  sumptuous. 

"  Jack  Moore,  who  in  the  absence  of  Enright  an*  Peets 
puts  it  up  he'll  preeside  by  virchoo  of  his  office  as  kettle 
tender,  takes  a  seat  at  the  table  with  the  Professor. 
Bein'  seated,  he  scowls  about  in  a  forbiddin'  way,  an' 
reequests  order  to  prevail. 

"'You  murderers  set  plumb  quiet  now/  says  Jack, 
layin'  his  two  guns  on  the  table  with  a  deal  of  clatter, 
'or  I'll  mow  you  down  in  red  an'  smokin'  swaths.  Mean 
while,  let  me  introdooce  to  your  fav'rable  notice  one 
whose  name  as  scientist,  savant  an'  gent,  by  every  fireside 
between  the  oceans,  is  a  household  word.  I  need 
skurcely  say  I  alloodes  to  the  lecturer  of  the  evenin',  the 
cel'brated  Professor  De  Bluff.' 

"'Not  Bluff,'  whispers  the  Professor  mighty  piteous; 
'Puff.' 

"Shore!  I  begs  pardon,'  says  Jack;  'Puff  of  course.' 
Then  to  us  out  in  the  cha'rs : '  I  gets  my  stack  down  wrong, 
gents;  allow  me  to  present  Professor  De  Puff.  His 
lecture  is  to  be  on  "Heads,  an'  Heads  in  Gen'ral,"  the 
same  'llustrated  by  a  public  readin'  of  the  bumps  of 
Mister  Rucker.' 

"The  Professor  gazes  askance  at  Jack's  guns,  an' 
rises  to  his  feet.  'I  was  promised,'  he  says,  'a  subject 
for  this  evenin's  exper'ment — a  Mister  Rucker.  May 
I  ask  is  thar  a  Mister  Rucker  with  us?' 

"'Yere's  your  victim,'  says  Tutt,  shovin'  Rucker  to 
the  front  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck,  Rucker  twistin'  an' 
turnin'  like  a  mortified  bobcat  tryin'  to  get  at  Tutt. 

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THE  LECTURE  IN  THE  LADY  GAY 

'Thar's  the  abandoned  wretch!'  goes  on  Tutt,  flingin' 
Rucker  into  a  seat  like  he's  a  bag  of  bran.  'Paw  the 
old  profligate  over,  an'  give  a  waitin'  public  the 
results.' 

"The  Professor  puts  a  good  face  on  it,  though  he's 
appalled  by  Tutt's  voylence.  He  steps  to  the  end  of  the 
table  where  Rucker's  been  planted,  an'  is  organizin'  to 
begin  when  Boggs  climbs  to  his  feet. 

" '  Mister  Cha'rman,'  says  Boggs,  *  prior  to  this  learned 
shorthorn  soilin'  his  fingers  on  the  head  of  that  low- 
down  spec'men  of  the  peasantry  which  Mister  Tutt  has 
jest  drug  up,  I'd  like  him  to  give  me  the  troo  inwardness 
of  a  bump  of  onyoosual  magnitoode,  which  I  myse'f 
possesses.' 

"'Speakin'  personal,'  returns  Jack,  *I  certainly  offers 
no  objections.  Which  if  Professor  De  Snuff — I  asks 
your  forb'arance,  I  should  say  Puff — is  willin'  to  waste 
his  time  on  sech  felons  as  you,  he  may  do  so.  Only' — 
yere  Jack  p'ints  his  finger  at  Boggs  plenty  om'nous — 
*  don't  onbelt  in  any  rannikaboo  breaks.  You  knows 
my  offishul  motto:  "Corpses  is  models  of  quietood  an' 
good  order."3 

"Upon  Boggs'  approachin'  the  table,  the  Professor 
who's  been  set  breathin'  rather  quick  by  Jack's  fulm'n- 
ations,  allows  he's  plumb  willin'  to  consider  Boggs' 
case.  The  day  before,  in  comin'  over  a  swell  at  a  hand- 
gallop,  Boggs'  pony  gets  it's  laig  in  a  badger  hole,  an' 
it  an'  Boggs  goes  rollin'  down  hill  all  tangled  up.  In 
scramblin'  to  its  four  hoofs,  the  pony  raps  Boggs  on  the 
top  of  the  head  some  emphatic  with  its  knee,  an'  leaves 

291 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

a  lump  the  size  of  a  lemon.     Which  it's  this  yere  excres 
cence  Boggs  submits  to  the  Professor. 

"'Cut  loose/  says  Boggs,  'an*  give  this  yere  enlight 
ened  gatherin'  the  froots  of  your  manipyoolations.' 

"'That's  the  bump  of  firmness/  says  the  Professor, 
fingerin'  away  at  Boggs'  head.  'You're  as  immov'ble 
as  the  everlastin'  hills !  The  deevelopment  is  wonderful ! ' 

"'Firmness!'  says  Boggs.  'Immov'ble!  Well  I 
should  say  as  much!  Gibralter's  on  wheels  to  me! 
Likewise,  let  me  offer  congratchoolations,  Professor, 
on  your  perspicac'ty.  That  swellin',  which  you  reads 
like  a  printed  page  in  one  whirl  of  the  wheel,  baffles  an' 
sets  at  naught  the  best  intellecks  of  two  hem'spheres.' 

"Boggs  grasps  the  Professor's  hand,  who  yields  the 
same  reluctant,  an*  is  preparin*  to  say  more  when 
Cherokee  speaks  up  from  the  audience. 

'"Mister  Pres'dent/  he  says,  'I  shore  trusts  you'll  dis 
miss,  to  his  proper  seat,  that  drunken  boor  with  the 
swellin'  on  his  head,  an*  forbid  him  to  annoy  this  assem 
blage  no  further.' 

"Boggs  whirls  on  Cherokee  like  a  insulted  grizzly, 
but  before  he  can  make  a  reply,  Jack  comes  down  on 
him  with  a  cocked  Colt's-45. 

"'That'll  do/  says  Jack.  'Another  yelp,  an'  I'll 
blow  your  light  out!  Don't  forget  that  the  day  so  far 
has  proved  for  me  a  barren  one;  I  ain't  beefed  no  one 
none  as  yet.' 

"As  Boggs  retires  in  silence  to  his  seat,  Jack  lays  down 
his  weepon  ag'in,  an*  waves  his  hand  towards  the  Pro 
fessor. 

292 


THE  LECTURE  IN  THE  LADY  GAY 

"'  Professor  De  Guff — I  means  Puff — will  now  pro 
ceed  with  the  deal/  he  says.  Then  to  the  Professor: 
'Get  busy  with  that  old  mule-thief's  cocoanut  before 
these  yere  outlaws  makes  another  start.  If  possible, 
I'd  shore  admire  to  go  through  the  evenin'  without 
bumpin'  somebody  off.' 

1 '  Mister  Cha'rman  an'  gents,'  says  the  Professor,  restin' 
one  hand  aff'bly  on  Rucker's  shoulder.  'I  wish  I  could 
also  add  "ladies;"  but  sech  is  out  of  the  question,  since 
none  of  the  gentler  sex  is  with  us  this  evenin/  havin* 
been  called  as  ministerin'  angels  to  the  pillow  of  infantile 
sickness.  However,  as  I  was  sayin' :  Mister  Pres'dent  an' 
gents,  phreenoPgy,  of  which  I  may  say  I'm  a  loominous 
exponent,  receives  its  earlier  impulse  as  a  science  onder 
the  astoote  auspices  of  a  philos'pher  named  Fowler. 
Perhaps  I  can  best  demonstrates  the  poss'bilities  of 
phreenol'gy  by  proceedin'  without  further  delays  to  a 
examination  of  the  craniyum  of  Mister  Rucker,  who's 
been  contreebooted  for  that  purpose  by  his  esteemable 
wife.' 

"Yere  the  Professor  plays  over  Rucker's  head  with 
his  fingers,  the  same  as  if  it's  a  keyboard  of  a  piano. 
At  last  he  looks  up,  confident  an'  cheerful,  an'  says: 

( '  Correct  me  if  I'm  wrong,  gents.  My  investigations 
pronounces  this  yere  craniyum  to  be  that  of  a  congen'tal 
crim'nal  intensified  by  drink.' 

"'Who  you  callin'  a  crim'nal?'  demands  Rucker  in 
hurt  tones. 

'"Now  don't  you  go  to  runnin'  any  blazers!'  breaks 
in  Jack,  addressin'  Rucker  an*  reachin'  for  his  six- 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

shooters.  ' Who's  he  callin'  a  criminal?  Which  he's 
callin'  you  a  crim'nal;  an',  considerin'  how  you  steals 
them  mules  up  by  Fort  Union,  I  holds  it's  a  mighty 
legit'mate  epithet.' 

"'But  I  never  steals  no  private  mules,'  protests  pore 
Rucker.  'Them  mules  is  gov'ment  mules;  I  gets  'em 
off  a  ambyoolance — four  of  'em.' 

'"None  the  less,'  says  Jack,  'speakin'  technicle  it's 
crim'nal.  Professor  De  Muff's,  excoose  me,  Puff's 
entirely  ackerate  in  his  employment  of  terms.  Roll 
your  game,  Professor.  Don't  mind  the  subject;  he's 
locoed  an'  never  has  no  sense  no  how.' 

"Rucker  glowers  at  Jack,  but  don't  say  nothin',  an' 
the  Professor  resoomes  his  discourse. 

"As  I  was  sayin',' observes  the  Professor;  'thisyere's 
the  head  of  a  born  crim'nal  intens'fied  by  drink,  an' 
the  words  is  hardly  out  of  my  mouth  when  they  receives 
flatterin'  corrob'ration,  an'  it's  shown  how  this  onmiti- 
gated  bandit  purloins  a  quartette  of  mules.' 

"'Mister  Cha'rman,'  breaks  in  Texas,  'I  rises  to  a 
question  of  priv'lege.  Which  if  this  yere  jacklaig 
phreenol'gist  is  goin'  to  give  evidence  of  any  mule 
larcenies,  I  demands  he  be  sworn.  Low  an'  onworthy 
as  Rucker  is,  he  all  the  same  has  got  his  rights.' 

"'An'  I  gives  notice  right  yere,'  shouts  Tutt,  leapin' 
to  his  feet  an'  makin'  a  lunge  to  get  at  Texas,  the  same 
bein'  frustrated  by  Cherokee  who  holds  him  back,  'that 
I  pays  my  four-bits  at  the  door  to  hear  the  lukyoobrations 
of  this  bump-sharp;  an'  I  don't  propose  bein'  swindled 
out  of  'em  by  no  noisy  an'  resoundin'  four-flush  from 

294 


THE  LECTURE  IN  THE  LADY  GAY 

Texas.  Cherokee,  let  me  go!  Which  nothin'  but  his 
heart'll  do  me  now!' 

"'Set  down! — both  of  you  tarrapins!'  roars  Jack. 
'  Be  you  seekin'  to  coerce  me  into  sheddin'  blood  ?  Set 
down,  or  I'll  fill  you  both  as  full  of  lead  as  Joplin  an' 
Galena!  Which  I  won't  tell  you  ag'in!  Professor 
De  Stuff,  or  Puff,  or  Muff,  or  whatever  his  brand  is,  '11 
have  a  fine  story  to  carry  East  about  the  manners  of 
this  camp!  A  passel  of  Digger  Injuns  is  Chesterfields 
to  you  prairie  dogs!' 

"This  yere  last  outburst  between  Tutt  an'  Texas  so 
discourages  the  Professor  he  allows  he  reckons  he'll  pack 
in. 

" 'It  seems  imposs'ble  to  go  on!'  he  says,  'an'  we  every 
moment  on  the  verge  of  spillin'  hooman  life.  Which 
we're  as  ones  balanced  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice  drippin' 
gore!  Wharf  ore,  I  thinks  I'll  end  my  lecture  before 
murder  ensoos.  Shorely,  it's  better  thus.' 

"'I  thinks  not!'  returns  Jack,  grim  an'  prompt.  'If 
you-all  figgers,  Professor,  this  outfit's  that  soopine  as  to 
let  you  announce  a  phreenol'gy  lecture,  win  out  four-bits 
per  capitty  at  the  door,  ondertake  a  readin'  of  Rucker's 
head,  an'  then,  when  you've  got  the  old  ruffian  half  ex 
pounded,  that  a-way,  an'  our  cur'osity  keyed  to  concert 
pitch,  fold  up  your  layout  an'  pull  your  freight,,  your 
estimates  of  us  is  erroneous  to  the  frontiers  of  the  false. 
Thar's  folks  gone  to  the  windmill  with  a  lariat  round 
their  necks  for  less ! ' 

"Onderstand!'  hastily  exclaims  the  Professor,  agit 
ated  plumb  through  by  Jack's  long  speech,  the  same 

295 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

bein'  reeled  off  with  amazin'  sperit — '  onderstand,  gents, 
it  all  rests  with  you!  If  it's  the  general  voice,  I'll  be  only 
too  proud  to  proceed.' 

"'You're  all  right,  Professor,'  speaks  up  Boggs  by 
way  of  encouragements.  '  Don't  let  these  yere  bloviatin' 
groundlin's  buffalo  you  a  little  bit.  They  ain't  any  of 
'em  killed  more'n  ten,  nor  skelped  more'n  six.  Go  on 
an'  toot  your  horn.  Which  I'm  with  you  to  the  death!' 

"After  a  spell,  the  Professor  gets  his  nerves  ca'med 
down,  an'  cl'ars  his  throat  for  a  fresh  start.  Runnin' 
his  hand  over  the  r'ar  of  Rucker's  head,  he  remarks: 
'Which  we  come  now  to  philoprogin'tiveness.  In  that 
interestin*  connection,  I  can  best  expound  what  I  de 
sires  by  tellin'  a  story.  It's  back  in  Topeka  in  the 
commonwealth  of  Kansas,  an'  I'm  examinin'  the  cranial 
deevelopments  of  a  Osage  Injun,  who's  been  lured  to  the 
evenin's  readin's  by  a  one  dollar  bill.  I  ought  to  impart 
to  you-alls  that,  onder  the  beenign  inflooences  of  a  higher 
edjoocation,  I  not  only  onfolds  as  a  phreenol'gist  but 
blossoms,  speritchooal,  to  sech  heights  I  becomes  a 
foremost  figger  among  the  age's  philanthropists,  an'  a 
firm  believer  in  the  yooniversal  brotherhood  of  man. 
By  the  light  of  this  explanation,  you  perceives  without 
puttin'  me  to  the  blushin'  immodesty  of  statin'  the  fact 
in  person,  that  I  deetects  no  difference  in  races,  but  treats 
a  Injun  exackly  the  same  as  if  he's  a  white  man.' 

"'Hold  on!'  says  Tutt,  'Mister  Cha'rman,  I  cannot  let 
sech  sent'ments  pass.  Lest  what  the  learned  sport  jest 
utters  has  mal-effects  on  the  younger  elements  of  this 
gatherin',  I  rises  to  say  that  treatin*  a  Injun  as  if  he's  a 

296 


THE  LECTURE  IN  THE  LADY  GAY 

white  man  is  like  treatin'  a  coyote  as  if  he's  a  collie  dog. 
Beautiful  as  a  abstraction,  it  cannot  be  applied  to  a 
sheep  country.' 

"'As  mod'rator  of  this  meetin','  observes  Jack,  beatin' 
on  the  table  with  one  of  his  guns  same  as  he's  seen  En- 
right,  'if  I  don't  exert  the  full  majesty  of  my  p'sition, 
to  put  the  kybosh  on  the  gent  who's  jest  broke  loose,  it's 
because  I  agrees  heart  an'  soul  with  his  remarks.  Which 
Injuns  is  shore  p'isen;  an'  every  right-thinkin'  husband, 
brother,  son  an'  father'll  employ  his  leesure  in  downin' 
all  he  can.  Havin'  deefmed  myse'f,  an'  added  the  mite 
of  my  pore  endorsements  to  the  test'mony  of  Mister  Tutt, 
we  will  now  rack  along  with  the  play.  Professor  De 
Stuff—' 

"'Puff,  sir,  Puff — if  you  please!'  interrupts  the  Pro 
fessor  in  pleadin'  tones. 

" '  Didn't  I  say  "  Puff  ?  " '  asks  Jack.  '  I  shore  intends 
to.  However  on  with  the  dance,  let  joy  be  onconfined. 
You  was  speakin'  about  that  Topeka  savage,  Professor.' 

"'Thar's  present  on  the  stage  with  me,'  re-begins  the 
Professor,  'a  em'nent  Creole  from  Noo  Orleans.' 

"Cree-owl!'  repeats  Boggs.  'In  order  that  I  grasps 
this  harangue  in  its  utmost  as  we  goes  sashayin'  along, 
let  me  inquire  if  cree-owls  is  same  as  squinch  owls  ? ' 

"What  barb'rous  onenlightenment!'  exclaims  Texas, 
in  onmeasured  scorn.  '  Man,  a  Creole  ain't  no  fowl,  it's  a 
animal.  I  ketches  one  alive  once,  an'  is  raisin'  it  as  a 
pet;  but  I  has  to  kill  it,  the  neighbors  claimin'  it  keeps 
'em  awake  nights  with  its  howls.' 

"Go  on!'  says  Jack,  grindin'  his  teeth  an'  bendin'  a 
20  297 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

malignant  eye  on  Boggs  an*  Texas,  'go  on  with  your 
pesterin'!  I  sees  it  comin'!  You'll  weary  me  to  where 
I'll  massacre  you  both,  or  I'm  a  Si  wash!' 

"Thar's  no  tellin'  where  Boggs  an'  Texas'll  wind  up, 
if  Rucker  don't  cut  in.  Scowlin'  up  at  the  Professor, 
he  says: 

"You-all  uses  language  about  me  to-night  I  don't 
take  from  no  one  but  my  wife.  Whatever  do  you  mean 
by  denouncin'  me  as  a  congen'tal  crim'nal?' 

"'Softly,  friend!'  replies  the  Professor;  'before  I'm 
through,  it's  my  pious  purpose  to  show  you  how  to  purify 
your  nacher  an*  make  it  white  as  snow.  It's  but  to 
prostrate  yourse'f  at  the  throne.  Hope  on!  The 
mercy  of  heaven  is  infinite;  it  forgives  the  thief  on  the 
cross ! ' 

'"Which  you're  certainly  a  compl'mentary  galoot!' 
says  Rucker  in  high  dudgeon;  'an',  so  soon  as  ever  I 
escapes  from  yere,  I'll  give  you  a  argyooment  you'll 
despise.  No  sech  limber-jim  as  you  is  goin'  to  go  on 
aspersin'  me  like  this,  an'  live.' 

"'Come,  Professor,'  urges  Jack,  'get  this  yere  homily 
dealt  down  to  the  turn.  I've  app'inted  myse'f  to  onbend 
in  some  slaughterin'  when  you're  finished,  an'  I  lusts  to 
commence.'  Then,  to  the  audience:  'Gents,  let  me 
labor  with  you-all  for  decency  an'  order.  Sev'ral  of  you 
is  nearin'  death,  an'  it'll  be  more  seemly  if  you  preserves 
some  appearance  of  dignity  doorin'  your  last  moments  on 
y 'earth.  Professor  De  Scruff — what  do  I  say! — Puff 
will  now  onbuckle  for  the  wind-up.' 

"'Well,'  observes  the  Professor,  drawin'  a  harassed 

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THE  LECTURE  IN  THE  LADY  GAY 

breath,  '  as  I  turns  to  the  Creole,  a  person  whose  name  is 
onimportant — ' 

"'I'm  shore  sorry  to  interfere,'  remarks  Cherokee,  as 
suave  as  a  dancin'  master,  'but  I  fails  to  gather  in  that 
last.  What  did  you  say,  Professor,  is  the  name  of  the 
gent?' 

"'I  says  his  name  is  onimportant/  observes  the  Pro 
fessor,  plumb  desp'rate. 

"'I  knows  a  party,'  vouchsafes  Boggs,  'whose  name 
is  Orin  Portant;  but  he's  lynched  over  in  Socorro.' 

"'This is  too  much!'  cries  Jack,  graspin'  his  artillery. 
'  Everybody  fill  his  hand !  I'm  the  onmixed  son  of  des 
olation,  an'  it's  yere  an'  now  I  enters  upon  my  c'lamitous 
an'  devastatin'  march!' 

"As  Jack  utters  the  last  word,  both  his  guns  go  off 
together,  an'  the  bombardment  sets  in  with  a  crash. 
It's  a  riotous  medley  of  flash  an'  roar!  Every  man  jack 
is  blazin'  away  with  two  six-shooters,  the  sides  an'  roof  is 
plugged  as  full  of  holes  as  a  colander,  an'  the  effect  is  all 
that  could  be  wished.  With  the  first  shot  all  the  lamps 
blinks  out;  thar  we  be  in  the  dark — a  powder-smokin' 
pandemoneyum  of  gun-fire  an'  uproar! 

"As  the  foosilade  fetches  loose,  the  Professor  gives  one 
disparin'  yell  an*  starts  to  plow  his  way  through.  Pistols 
bark  an'  spit  about  his  shrinkin'  y'ears,  an'  each  time  it 
augments  his  enthoosiasm.  Slight  an'  paper-backed 
as  he  is,  onder  the  spur  of  a  great  desire,  he  parts  the 
crowd  like  water,  breshin'  aside  sech  minor  obstructions 
as  Boggs  an'  Tutt  an'  Texas  as  though  they're  no  more'n 
shadows.  In  the  end  he  escapes,  howlin'  an'  screechin', 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

into  the  street.  No,  he  don't  eemerge  through  no  door; 
he's  got  'way  beyond  doors!  He  simply  t'ars  the  entire 
front  out  of  the  old  Lady  Gay,  an'  vanishes  into  the 
night.  We  marks  his  flight  by  y'ear.  He  gets  further 
an'  further  off  to'ards  the  north,  runnin'  like  a  antelope, 
evolvin'  a  screech  with  every  leap,  an'  leavin'  a  screamin' 
tail  like  a  vocal  comet  behind. 

"'This  yere,'  says  Boggs  in  his  whole-souled  hearty 
way,  as  he  desists  from  his  labors,  '  constitootes  what  I 
regyards  as  a  perfect  evenin'.  I  now  moves  we  rendesvoos 
at  the  Red  Light  without  annoyin'  delays.  Which  this 
yere  salt-peter  in  the  atmosphere  shore  renders  me  as  dry 
as  any  powder  horn.' 

"'It's  absoloote  ver'ty,  gents!'  declares  the  Professor 
a  heap  breathless  to  them  sports  in  Tucson,  which  mee- 
trop'lis  he  reaches  next  evenin'.  'That  onbaptized 
group  of  murderers  an'  man-eaters  called  Wolfville  is 
no  more!  I  stays  till  the  finish,  an'  makes  a  nose  to  nose 
canvass  of  the  corpses.  It's  as  I  tells  you :  forty  dead  an' 
fourteen  hundred  wounded  past  recovery.' " 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

CASH   BOX   AND   MRS.    BILL 

WITH  us  her  name  is  always  'Missis  Bill/" 
observed  the  Old  Cattleman,  his  manner 
betraying  a  respect  so  deep  it  trenched 
on  reverence,  "while  his  is  'Cash  Box  Billy.'  As  a 
household,  they  don't  remain  long  enough  to  get  reelly 
rooted  among  us  none,  seein'  they're  promoted  by  the 
Express  Company,  inside  of  six  months,  to  a  p'sition 
twict  as  good  some'ers  up  about  the  Dalls.  At  that  their 
stay  is  s'fficient  so  we  always  recalls  Cash  Box  with  feel- 
in's  of  friendly  regyard,  while  as  to  Missis  Bill  we  never 
hears  that  matron's  name  without  takin'  off  our  hats. 

"Which  the  conjoogal  example  of  that  remark'ble 
pa'r  becomes  a  never-flaggin'  argyooment  in  the  mouth 
of  Missis  Rucker,  on  them  occasions  she  engages  in  j'int 
deebate  with  Peets  an'  mebby  Texas,  touchin'  the 
blessin's  to  flow  from  lady  soopremacy  in  the  fam'ly. 
" * Matrimonyal  success/  says  Missis  Rucker,  'is  to  be 
secoored  only  when  the  wife's  the  onchecked  head  of  the 
house.  Her  motives  is  purer,  her  intellects  is  stronger, 
her  nacher  is  cleaner  strain,  an  besides  she's  got  more 
sense.'  Sayin'  which,  Missis  Rucker  commonly  falls 
back  on  Missis  Bill  an'  Cash  Box,  as  beyond  cavil  es- 
tablishin'  her  claims. 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"Shore;  sech  dispootations  is  freequent,  for  Texas 
feels  plenty  deep  as  to  wedlock,  him  havin'  suffered, 
while  Peets  likes  to  do  it  for  relaxation.  As  to  Missis 
Rucker,  I  figgers  sometimes  her  conscience  pricks  her  con- 
cernin'  Rucker;  an'  its  to  jestify  herse'f  to  herse'f,  more'n 
anything  else,  she  indulges  in  them  discussions.  Now  an' 
then  Boggs,  who's  easy  moved,  gets  excited  an'  onloads 
a  few  blurred  views.  Nacherally,  they  don't  count  none, 
bein'  nothin'  more'n  a  re-hash  of  what  Peets  already 
utters,  Boggs  holdin' — an'  rightful — that  Peets  is  the 
intellectchooal  colossus  of  the  Southwest. 

"Them  bickers  is  a  heap  edifyin';  an'  for  myse'f, 
while  I'm  never  that  courageous  I  takes  part,  I  likes 
to  set  an'  listen.  Speakin'  gen'ral,  they  comes  off  at 
chuck  time  across  the  table  at  the  O.  K.  House,  Missis 
Rucker  feedin'  sometimes  along  with  us;  an'  its  shore 
entertainin',  after  she  evolves  some  speshul  reason,  provin' 
how  the  best  of  husbands  is  mere  six-spots  in  the  marital 
deck  that  a-way,  seldom  high  or  low  an'  never  jack  nor 
game,  to  see  her  turn  on  Rucker — who's  waitin'  on  the 
outfit — an'  say: 

"'You  go  round  up  some  rice  puddin';  an'  see  that 
them  Mexicans  in  the  kitchen  don't  hold  out  none  on  the 
raisins  neither!' 

"Rucker'll  be  glowerin'  like  a  indignant  hedgehawg 
behind  Missis  Rucker's  back,  but  you  bet  he  don't  let  her 
ketch  him  at  it.  She's  got  him  that  redooced,  all  he  dar's 
say  is  '  Yes'm!'  mighty  tame  an'  obedient,  as  he  vamoses 
in  quest  of  them  viands. 

"  Why  don't  I  never  take  no  sides  ?  What's  the  good 
302 


CASH  BOX  AND  MRS.  BILL 

of  me  gettin'  all  chawed  up  over  questions  which,  from  my 
onmarried  standpoint  is  wholly  academic?  Not  but 
what  I  has  opinions;  for  I  holds  then,  as  I  holds  now,  that 
a  household  don't  necessarily  mean  a  tandem,  an*  thar's 
sech  a  thing  in  nacher  as  husband  an'  wife  travellin' 
abreast.  Still,  I  ain't  so  simple  as  to  go  expressin'  these 
yere  beliefs.  Which  Missis  Rucker  an'  Peets  an'  Texas 
that  a-way,  their  blood  bein'  up,  would  make  me  look 
like  a  hen  partridge  at  a  mass-meetin'  of  minks! 

"'You  onderstands,'  Texas'd  say,  'I  don't  counsel 
no  gent  to  wed;  speshully  when  the  lady's  bent  on  bein' 
range  boss  for  the  outfit.  Still,  if  a  gent's  that  perverse, 
he  might  jest  as  well  shet  his  eyes  an'  go  it  blind.  He  can 
gamble  no  matter  who  he  marries,  he'll  wake  up  some 
off-mornin'  an*  find  she's  someone  else.  Do  you-all 
reckon,'  he  goes  on,  gettin'  excited  an'  backin'  up  on  his 
own  pers'nal  injuries — 'do  you-all  reckon  my  Laredo 
wife  acts  prior  like  she  does  later  on?  Well  I  should 
shore  say  not!' 

"'Whatever  does  she  do,  Texas?'  asks  Faro  Nell, 
who's  plenty  inquis'tive. 

"'What  does  she  do?'  repeats  Texas.  'Nell,  before 
I  espouses  that  lady,  butter 'd  freeze  in  her  mouth. 
Turtle  doves  is  hen-hawks  by  compar'son!  Two  weeks 
after,  she  goes  hectorin'  round  about  ten  thousand  dollars 
I  has  cached  in  the  bank.  She  weeps  night  an'  day,  an' 
allows  through  her  tears  that  it  ought  to  be  in  her  name 
same  as  mine;  then  if  I  blinks  out  inadvertent,  she  protects 
herse'f,  her  check  bein'  good.' 

"'An'  whatever  is  your  reply?'  asks  Nell. 
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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

"'What  would  any  bliss-locoed  mav'rick  reply?' 
returns  Texas,  mighty  sore.  'Which  I'm  that  fatuous 
I  yields.  An*  Nell,  the  next  mornin'  after  I  puts  that 
treasure  in  both  our  names,  she  trapses  down  to  the 
bank,  draws  out  the  entire  roll,  an*  slaps  it  into  another 
bank  to  her  own  sole  use  an'  behoof,  barrin'  me  complete.' 

"'An'  then?"  Boggs  breaks  in,  Texas  pausin'  to  up 
lift  himse'f  mod 'rate  with  a  calabash  of  Old  Jordan. 

'"An  then?'  repeats  Texas,  full  of  scorn.  'Thar 
ain't  no  then !  When  I  goes  pirootin'  round  to  that  money 
institootion,  aimin'  to  lay  ba'r  her  perfidy  an'  recover 
my  rights,  the  cashier  turns  hostile  at  me  from  inside 
his  brass  cage,  an'  whangs  away  with  a  six-shooter, 
allowin'  I'm  out  to  rob  the  safe.' 

"An'  don't  your  wife  offer  no  explanations?'  pursoos 
Nell. 

'"Shore!  She's  like  Missis  Rucker,  an'  defends  her 
game  on  the  ground  she's  got  more  sense  than  me.' 

"'Moreover,'  interjecks  Missis  Rucker,  smoothin'down 
her  bib,  plumb  satisfied,  'while  it's  no  part  of  the  O.  K. 
Restauraw's  economy,  to  go  round  harrassin'  the  boarders 
without  doo  cause,  an'  although  this  yere  Laredo  lady's 
strange  to  me  entire,  it's  my  idee  she  proves  it.' 

"'That  ain't  all,'  groans  Texas,  not  heedin'  Missis 
Rucker;  'after  she  cleans  me  up  for  my  bundle,  she  gives 
it  out  that,  onless  I'm  round  home  more  evenin's,  she'll 
seequestrate  my  clothes.  Tharupon  I  resolves  to  beat 
her  to  it.  I  throws  my  duds  into  a  big  chest,  puts  on  a 
padlock,  an  hides  the  key.  Gents,  it  never  bothers  her  a 
bit!  She  simply  claps  on  another  padlock  alongside  of 

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CASH  BOX  AND  MRS.  BILL 

mine,  an'  thar,  in  one  move,  she  has  me  out  on  a  desolate 
limb!  After  sech  heartless  exploits,  do  you-all  wonder 
how,  matrimonyal,  I'm  plumb  ready  to  pack  in  ?  Why 
I  welcomes  that  divorce,  same  as  a  lifer  down  at  Hunts- 
ville  does  a  pardon!' 

"'The  trouble,  Texas/  says  Enright,  his  tones  gentle, 
him  feelin'  sorry  for  Texas — 'the  trouble  is  you're  some 
too  old  when  she  ties  you  down.  Husbands,  to  get  best 
results,  must  be  caught  young.' 

"'Old!'  exclaims  Texas.  'Why,  I'm  only  forty-one 
when  I'm  entrapped.' 

"'Which  is  twenty  years  too  late!'  persists  Enright. 
'Take  a  yooth  of  twenty-one,  an'  saw  him  off  on  some 
lady  not  otherwise  engaged,  an'  it's  odds  on  thar's  no  more 
trouble  to  come  of  it  than  between  a  kitten  an'  a  sasser 
of  warm  milk.  At  twenty-one,  hooman  nacher  is  like  wet 
buckskin,  an'  stretches  or  shrinks  as  occasion  reequires.' 

"But  to  hark  back:  Cash  Box  Billy  is  the  money 
gent  for  the  Express  Company.  Thar's  two  people  at 
the  express  office,  Cash  Box  an'  a  darklin'  party  whose 
name  is  Andy  Ball.  Because  this  latter  sport's  the  color 
of  a  Mexican,  with  black  eyes  an'  black  ha'r,  an'  has  be 
sides  a  sort  o'  midnight  manner,  we  calls  him,  indiscrim'n- 
ate,  'Black  Andy'  an'  'Black  Ball/  Boggs  favorin'  the 
latter,  him  claimin'  that  the  sight  of  Black  Ball  makes 
him  feel  like  a  loser. 

"Black  Ball  bein'  single, that  a-way,  don't  have  no  wife, 
while  Cash  Box  is  a  married  gent  of  thirty  years  standin', 
bein'  acquired  former  by  Missis  Bill  at  the  age  Enright 
recommends.  Him  an'  Black  Ball  takes  charge  of  the  ex- 

305 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

press  office  in  yoonison,  the  company  shiftin'  the  coyotes, 
who's  been  holdin'  down  the  play,  to  sityooations  East. 

"  When  Cash  Box  comes  romancin'  along,  we  nacher- 
ally  looks  him  over  plumb  severe.  An  for  good  an'  s'ffi- 
cient  reasons,  we  usin'  the  Express  Company  same  as  if 
it's  a  bank.  It's  thar  we  mows  away  our  sooperfluous 
money,  said  wealth — Cherokee  keepin'  his  bankroll 
thar,  same  as  the  balance  of  us — commonly  mountin'  to 
as  good  as  eighty  thousand  dollars. 

"The  Express  Company  tucks  this  yere  treasure  away 
in  a  steel  box  inside  the  big  safe,  Cash  Box  packin'  the 
only  key.  Bein'  he's  the  party,  tharfore,  app'inted  to 
ride  herd  on  our  wealth,  an'  sech  mir'cles  havin'  been 
heard  of  as  the  gent  thus  distinguished  evaporatin'  with 
the  riches  committed  to  his  charge,  we-all  regyards  Cash 
Box  mighty  intent,  when  he  first  blows  in,  strivin'  to  get  a 
idee  of  what  resks  we're  up  ag'inst.  Which  the  more  we 
considers  Cash  Box,  the  more  secoore  we  begins  to  feel. 
One  look  into  that  honest  easy-goin'  face  of  his  stam 
pedes  every  doubt. 

"The  same  can't  be  uttered  none  consernin'  Black 
Ball.  In  spite  of  him  bein'  soft-voiced  an'  aff'ble,  he's 
that  sinister  as  to  set  you  reachin'  for  a  copper  every  time 
circumstances  compels  you  to  place  a  bet  on  him.  Don't 
you  ever  notice  that  in  folks,  son?  Thar's  people  you 
trusts  at  the  drop  of  the  hat;  thar's  others  from  whom 
your  s'picions  never  lifts  their  eyes.  Explain  it  ?  When 
I  do  I'll  explain  why  you  makes  a  pet  of  sheep  dogs  an' 
not  of  snakes.  Every  gent  in  camp  breathes  freer,  when 
we  learns  how  Black  Ball  ain't  goin'to  be  tangled  up,  per- 

306 


CASH  BOX  AND  MRS.  BILL 

s'nal,  with  our  diner -o.  Which  we'd  sooner  have  took 
chances  on  totin'  it  in  our  boots! 

"Black  Ball's  dead  now,  an'  it  shore  don't  become  me 
none  to  go  speakin'  ill  of  any  gent  over  whom  the  grass 
is  wavin's,  but  between  us,  before  Black  Ball  goes  with 
the  Express  Company,  he's  a  lawyer  at  the  Noo  York 
bar.  However,  he's  took  the  big  dark  jump,  so  let  it 
slide;  thar's  no  use  rakin'  up  a  onforchoonate  past.  He 
shore  quits  bein'  a  Noo  York  lawyer  a  whole  lot  before 
ever  we  meets  up  with  him,  an*  who  shall  say  he  ain't 
actchooated  of  reepentance  an'  a  impulse  to  reform? 
Notwithstandin'  he's  out  for  the  camp's  bundle  when 
bumped  off  by  Missis  Bill,  I  sees  no  reason  to  deeprive 
him  of  this  yere  doubt. 

"  Cash  Box  is  bald,  an'  five  feet  tall,  an'  his  face  is  as 
round  an'  open  as  a  bull's  eye  watch.  What  he  lacks  in 
physical  elevation,  he  makes  up  in  breadth  an'  depth, 
an'  if  he  was  to  get  knocked  over,  he  wouldn't  fall,  he'd 
roll.  Besides,  he's  as  bland  an'  even-tempered  as  a 
Joone  night,  an'  no  more  donnin'  airs  or  puttin'  on  a 
bulge  than  a  bunch  of  voylets. 

"  Missis  Bill  don't  look  no  more  like  Cash  Box  than  a 
queen  of  clubs.  She's  a  head  taller,  raw-boned,  onstinted 
as  to  hands  an'  feet,  a  jaw  like  the  rock  of  ages,  an'  thin 
wispy  ha'r  all  streaked  of  gray.  She's  had  the  smallpox 
too,  an'  shows  it;  an'  some'ers  along  the  trail  she's  gone 
shy  a  eye.  All  told,  thar's  reason  for  assoomin',  with 
Jack  Moore,  that  Cash  Box,  when  he  resolves  to  wed  her, 
comes  to  sech  concloosion  by  candle  light. 

"  An'  yet,  thar's  somethin'  mighty  good  an'  reefreshin* 
307 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

about  Missis  Bill.  That  one  optic  burns  an'  beams  with 
a  steady  gen'rous  gleam  that's  shore  fed  from  the  heart 
direct,  an'  like  a  light  in  a  window  shines  out  through  the 
dark  for  troubled  people  who  have  lost  their  way.  Every 
soul  in  the  outfit  likes  Misses  Bill;  an',  as  for  little  En- 
right  Peets,  he  nacherally  dotes  on  her.  An*  well  that 
blessed  infant  may!  She  stuffs  him  with  sweet-meats 
an'  del'cacies  to  that  degree  he  grows  ten  pounds  heavier 
in  two  weeks,  an'  alarms  the  camp.  Peets  has  to  give 
him  drugs. 

"Most  of  all,  Missis  Bill  looks  after  Cash  Box.  She 
not  only  directs  but  she  transacts  his  destinies,  an'  is  to 
him  in  all  things  owner,  mother,  wife  an*  slave.  He 
w'ars  what  she  says,  eats  what  she  provides,  sleeps  when 
she  tells  him  to,  gets  up  when  she  calls,  an*  daylight  or 
dark,  sun-up  or  sun-down,  lives  an'  breathes  an'  comes 
an*  goes  by  her  decrees. 

"An*  Cash  Box  likes  it.  Talk  of  infatchooations; 
why  Cash  Box  is  simply  wropped  up  in  Missis  Bill! 
That  lady's  his  religion! 

"'Ain't  Missis  Bill  the  limit?'  he  says,  joyful  to  the 
edge  of  eediocy;  'ain't  she  the  mother  of  all  flowers?' 

"'Right  you  be,  Cash  Box!"  Faro  Nell  replies,  for 
Nell's  pleased  at  him  thinkin'  so  much  of  Missis  Bill. 
'She's  every  thing  you  says!  Ain't  Missis  Bill  plumb 
lovely,  Cherokee?' 

"'Missis  Bill's  a  green  tree  an' a  fountain!'  Cherokee 
returns;  'she's  shore  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a 
weary  land!' 

"'Thar's  folks,'  goes  on  Cash  Box,  who's  encouraged 
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CASH  BOX  AND  MRS.  BILL 

by  Nell's  enthoosiasm,  an'  Cherokee  backin'  her  play, 
'who  laughs,  an'  allows  I'm  henpecked.  Do  I  give  'em 
a  argyooment  at  sech  times?  Never!  Which  I'm 
merely  proud!  I  glories  to  be  pecked  by  sech  a  hen!' 

"'An'  see  how  she  takes  care  of  you!'  exclaims  Nell. 
'  If  you're  her  own  infant  child,  you  couldn't  be  in  stronger 
than  you  be!' 

"'That's  whatever!'  echoes  Cash  Box;  'that's  what  I 
weds  her  for — to  be  took  care  of.  Before  I  hooks  up 
with  that  one-eyed  angel,  I'm  crawlin'  out  o'  one  hole  only 
to  fall  into  another  twict  as  deep.  Life's  made  up  of 
them  holes.  Since  she  took  charge  of  me,  I've  been 
campin'  on  the  high  ground  an'  livin'  on  the  fat.  Why- 
ever  shouldn't  I  mind  her  smokes  ?  Missis  Bill's  forgot 
more'n  I  know.  She  saveys  more  in  a  minute  than 
sech  tarrapins  as  me  does  in  a  month  of  Sundays.  Some 
folks  takes  out  insurance  pol'cies;  I  takes  out  a  marriage 
licence,  an'  yoonites  with  Missis  Bill.  That's  me! — 
that's  cunnin'  old  Cash  Box  every  time!' 

"'Which  Cash  Box,'  exclaims  Boggs,  who's  emotional 
an'  gets  freequent  swept  away — 'which  Cash  Box  is 
certainly  the  finest  little  fat  man  whose  trail  I  ever  cuts ! ' 

"'You  bet  your  guns  I  be!'  replies  Cash  Box.  'Also, 
a  pet  fox  is  foolish  alongside  of  me !  An'  all,  onderstand 
me,  by  virchoo  of  Missis  Bill.  When  I'm  with  her,  I 
walks  by  the  light  of  her  glance;  when  I'm  away,  I  feels 
she's  thar  jest  the  same  like  the  stars  at  noon,  invis'ble 
mebby,  but  shinin'  on  serene  an'  white  an'  steady!  Oh 
I  knows  my  business;  thar  ain't  a  moment  I  don't  go 
needin'  Missis  Bill,  Shore,  I'm  strong  like  a  hoss;  but  I 

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reequires  Missis  Bill  to  hitch  me  up  an'  drive  me,  before 
ever  I  can  haul  a  load.  I'm  same  as  a  steel  spring;  I 
has  to  be  pressed  down  in  order  to  exert  my  strength,  an' 
Missis  Bill's  that  pressure.  An'  lib'ral  ?  She  ain't  no 
one  to  go  muzzlin'  the  ox  when  he  treadeth  out  the  corn. 
Not  much!  When  her  an'  me's  discussin'  rum,  I  ups 
an'  says:  "Old  lady;  how  about  me  quilin'  'round  four 
libations  of  a  evenin'?  Don't  you  reckon  four  is 
plenty  ?  "  Missis  Bill  ponders  some,  an'  shakes  her  head : 
"Make  it  five,  Cash  Box,"  she  says;  "thar's  luck  in  odd 
numbers,  an*  that  fifth  hooker  won't  never  down  you 
none."  As  for  Fo'th  of  Jooly  an'  Christmas,  at  sech 
seasons  she  takes  my  hobbles  off  an'  throws  me  loose, 
free  to  become  as  scand'lous  as  I  likes.' 

"'Thar's  no  doubt  about  it!'  coincides  Boggs,  mighty 
fervent;  'Missis  Bill  has  got  the  right  idee!' 

"'What  amooses  me,'  continyoos  Cash  Box,  who's 
thar  with  the  goods  about  Missis  Bill  as  long  as  folks'll 
listen — 'what  amooses  me  is  how  some  people  expects 
I'm  goin*  to  be  ashamed  because  I'm  run  by  Missis  Bill. 
Why  it's  my  boast! — my  one  best  bet!  Once  thar's  a 
editor  person  who  waxes  facetious  about  it,  an'  prints 
in  his  paper: 

"*C — h  B — x  is  a  careful  bird, 
He  won't  so  much  as  cheep, 
Nor  ever  dare  to  breathe  a  word, 
Except  his  wife's  asleep.' 

" '  Do  I  grow  weary  or  sore  ?  On  the  contrary  I  seeks 
out  that  son  of  the  mooses,  an'  offers  ten  dollars  a  stanza 
for  more,  an'  go  as  far  as  he  likes.' 

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CASH  BOX  AND  MRS.  BILL 

"It's  about  fifth  drink  time  in  the  evenin'  when  Cash 
Box  onfurls  the  last,  an* — the  same  bein'  her  custom 
constant — Missis  Bill  floats  by  the  Red  Light  door.  It's 
the  regular  signal;  Cash  Box  up-ends  his  glass,  an* 
meanders  forth.  An'  so,  side  by  side,  they  p'ints  away 
into  the  dark  for  their  one  storey  wickeyup,  out  on  the 
edge  of  town,  Missis  Bill  holdin'  'ffectionately  by  Cash 
Box's  arm,  an'  him  skurce  up  to  her  shoulder. 

"'Look  at  'em!"  exclaims  Peets,  full  of  admiration; 
'  look  at  'em,  Sam!  Which  they've  got  Paul  an'  Virginny 
wiped  plumb  off  the  pampas!' 

"'They  certainly  be  calk'lated,'  returns  Enright,  'to 
excite  envy  in  single  folks.' ' 


CHAPTER  XXX 


MISSIS  Bill  is  born  in  Texas,  which  let  me  say  in 
passin'  is  a  mighty  turgid  commonwealth. 
Also,  while  she's  roast  apples  an*  cream  to 
wards  Cash  Box  an'  the  rest  of  us,  she  fully  jestifies  that 
Lone  Star  emanation.  She  can  protect  herse'f  as  well  as 
Cash  Box,  saveys  a  six-shooter  as  complete  as  ever  she 
saveys  a  needle,  an*  shoots  as  fine  as  she  sews.  One 
mornin'  a  rapid  fire  foosilade  breaks  out  over  back  of 
the  Cash  Box  shack.  Thar  ain't  a  gent  in  camp  could 
have  shook  them  loads  out  quicker,  not  even  Cherokee. 

"'It's  all  right/  says  Texas,  comin'  up;  'it's  only 
Missis  Bill.  She  opens  on  a  rattlesnake,  whose  pitched 
camp  on  her  door  step,  an'  she  shore  does  bust  him  up  a 
heap!  That  fool  reptile's  in  seven  pieces  before  ever  he 
c'llects  his  wits.  She's  certainly  some  nimble  with  a 
Colt's-45,  is  Missis  Bill;  it  looks  like  she  not  only  w'ars 
the  trousers,  but  packs  the  gun.' 

"Like  everybody  else  in  town,  onless  it's  Cash  Box, 
Missis  Bill  ain't  got  no  use  for  Black  Ball.  Cash  Box 
himse'f  is  sort  o'  fond  of  Black  Ball.  Of  course  this  yere 
leanin'  on  the  part  of  Cash  Box  don't  mean  nothin', 
him  bein'  that  egreegiously  sunny  he's  fond  of  everybody 
— fond  of  Mexicans — fond  even  of  Rucker.  An'  he 

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MRS.  BILL'S  PROTECTORATE 

does  his  best  to  indooce  Missis  Bill  to  stand  for  Black 
Ball;  but  no,  it  ain't  in  the  deck.  She  can't  bring  her- 
se'f  to  so  much  as  tol'rate  him. 

"'An'  why  not?'  asks  Cash  Box.  'Tell  me,  so  I 
won't  like  him  none  myse'f.' 

"'No,'  returns  Missis  Bill,  'thar's  no  sense  in  doin' 
that.  You  go  on  likin'  him;  I'd  like  to  like  him  if  I 
could,  but  I  can't.  Somehow  thar's  that  about  him 
which  reeminds  one  powerful  of  Davy  Crockett's  log, 
which  stick  of  timber's  that  crooked  it  couldn't  lay  still. 
An'  yet,  Cash  Box,  I  don't  hold  this  Black  Bail  reespons- 
'ble  for  my  feelin'  averse  to  him.  I  reckons  he  can't  no 
more  he'p  bein'  dislikeable  that  a-way,  than  I  can  he'p 
dislikin'  him.  Only  Cash  Box,'  concloods  Missis  Bill, 
plenty  serious,  'don't  trust  him — don't  take  no  chance  on 
him!'  An'  nacherally,  sech  bein'  his  habit,  Cash  Box 
allows  he  won't. 

'You  knows  me,  Missis  Bill,'  he  says;  'you're  onto 
the  lovin'  curves  of  your  little  Cash  Box!  You  speaks, 
I  jumps;  that's  my  system!  Also,  it  goes  either  way,  an* 
black  is  white  or  chalk  is  cheese  accordin*  as  you  says.' 

"Wharupon  Missis  Bill  bestows  upon  Cash  Box  one 
of  them  looks  that  means  pie  three  times  a  day,  an', 
after  kissin'  her  so  it  sounds  like  a  pony's  foot  in  the  mud, 
Cash  Box  goes  pirootin'  off  to  the  express  office  on  the 
trail  of  them  daily  dooties.  An'  yet  all  that  bluff  about 
him  not  trustin'  Black  Ball  is,  so  far  as  Cash  Box  is  con 
cerned,  a  waste  of  words,  as  none  is  onto  better  than 
Missis  Bill  herse'f.  Cash  Box  don't  know  what  the 
word  's'picion'  means;  he's  born  that  blind.  Which. 
21  313 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

he's  that  confidin'  he'd  set  a  rattlesnake  to  dry-nuss  a 
baby  jackrabbit,  an'  then  be  plumb  puzzled  because  the 
little  rab  seems  absent  later  on. 

"  What  with  Black  Ball  beinj  by  nacher  secret,  an'  us 
not  interested  in  him  no  how,  thar  ain't  a  sport  in  camp 
who's  got  the  slightest  notion  of  him.  He  works  an'  he 
eats  an'  he  rolls  into  his  blankets  nights,  an'  that's  about 
as  far  as  our  knowledge  goes.  For  example  that  Black 
Ball's  the  most  locoed  hooman  bein'  to  gamble,  who 
ever  figgers  in  the  social  life  of  South  West  Arizona. 
But  said  information  never  breaks  on  us  ontil  it  deevelopes 
subsequent  at  the  hearin'  which,  for  the  looks  of  things, 
precedes  the  obsequies.  An'  even  then  it  fills  us  with  as 
much  amazement  as  a  milk-crock  from  a  high  shelf. 

"Still,  our  ignorance  ain't  hard  to  onderstand,  since 
Black  Ball  is  plenty  heedful  not  to  do  his  kyard  playin' 
in  either  Wolfville  or  yet  Red  Dog.  He's  mighty  sel 
dom  in  the  Red  Light,  an'  never  sets  in  ag'inst  Cherokee's 
bank.  Not  but  what,  if  he  does,  he'd  be  as  much  in 
fash'nable  line  as  a  nigger  in  Timbuctoo.  But  he  don't 
none;  an'  since  no  gent  of  reefinements,  an'  I  might  say 
proodence,  goes  round  askin'  questions,  it  never  dawns 
on  us  that  them  three  or  four  days  each  month  he  puts  in 
over  in  Tucson,  he  devotes  to  green-cloth  specyoolations 
entire. 

"Sech,  however,  is  the  interestin'  case;  an*  we  hears  at 
the  Oriental  S'loon  that,  only  show  Black  Ball  a  faro 
layout  an'  endow  him  with  a  hatful  of  chips,  he  goes 
plumb  wild  an'  cimarron.  They  plays  a  lib'ral  game 
in  Tucson,  two  hundred  on  doubles  an'  a  hundred  on 

314 


MRS.  BILL'S  PROTECTORATE 

the  turn,  an'  yet  once  he  gets  to  goin'  sech  limits  is  irk 
some  to  him.  He  whines  an*  pleads  for  latitoode,  an* 
when  it's  granted  he  bets  'em  higher  than  the  roof. 

"  No  gent  ever  arises  to  su'gest  that  Black  Ball  gets 
crooked  action,  doorin'  them  gamblin'  fits  of  his.  More 
over,  on  the  first  two  occasions  he  cuts  loose,  his  luck  is 
that  profoose  he  fairly  wins  the  kyarpets  off  the  floor; 
his  profits  runs  into  thousands.  As  freequent  occurs, 
however,  Black  Ball's  luck  don't  hold  out;  at  mebby  the 
third  settin'  he  plays  in  not  only  all  he's  ahead,  but  goes 
dead  broke  besides.  Worse,  when  he  does  shove  back, 
thar's  markers  waitin'  for  him  to  the  toone  of  thirty- 
seven  hundred  dollars.  Black  Ball  explains  to  the  dealer 
that  he'll  send  over  the  thirty-seven  hundred  by  the  next 
stage,  an',  Wolfville  credit  bein'  considerable  above 
timberline  in  Tucson,  the  sport  back  of  the  deal-box 
offers  no  demur. 

"Black  Ball  keeps  his  word;  although  he  does  it, 
accordin'  as  Cash  Box  tabs  up  the  racket  followin'  the 
fooneral,  at  Boggs'  expense.  Boggs  it  seems  wanders 
in  at  noon,  when  Cash  Box  himse'f  is  gorgin'  on  Missis 
Bill's  midday  feed,  an'  leaves  five  thousand  to  go  into  the 
company's  steel  coffers  that  a-way.  Boggs  gives  it 
to  Black  Ball,  who's  the  only  gent  in  sight,  an'  he's  to 
turn  it  over  to  Cash  Box,  when  he  drifts  in  from  his 
chuck. 

"But,  bein'  he's  in  the  hole  for  them  thirty-seven 
hundred  it  looks  like  the  temptation's  too  much  for 
Black  Ball.  He  peels  the  amount  off  Boggs'  roll,  an' 
gives  Cash  Box  only  thirteen  hundred.  Shore,  he  ain't 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

mentionin'  the  deeficiency,  but  lets  on  thirteen  hundred 
is  all  Boggs  changes  in.  Which  if  he  had,  it's  a  heap 
likely  thar'd  have  come  some  stirrin'  moments  Boggs 
bein'  a  prey  to  all  sorts  of  rannikaboo  impulses,  when 
he's  robbed.  As  it  is,  Cash  Box  receives  the  thirteen 
hundred,  slings  it  into  the  steel  box,  clicks  the  key, 
enters  it  in  his  little  old  book,  an*  stands  innocently  pat. 

"Enright,  when  we  returns  from  plantin'  Black  Ball 
among  the  'llustrious  dead  on  Boot  Hill  gives  his  theery 
of  eevents. 

"'When  Black  Ball  skins  Dan's  roll/  says  Enright, 
'he's  honest  enough  an'  intends  to  make  good,  regyardin' 
it  as  a  cinch  that  Cash  Box  falls  for  his  request  to  sign 
the  note  he  aims  to  discount.  After  Missis  Bill  interferes 
an'  Cash  Box  don't  sign  no  note,  an'  seein'  he's  in  wrong 
about  Dan's  thirty-seven  hundred,  Black  Bail  resolves  to 
vamos  with  every  splinter  in  the  till,  an'  begin  life  afresh. 
Don't  you  reckon  that's  it,  Doc  ? ' 

"'Sech.  s'lootion,'  says  Peets,  'is  shore  a  heap  con 
sistent/ 

"Havin'  dispatched  the  thirty-seven  hundred  to  the 
kyard  sharp  in  Tucson,  Black  Ball  goes  at  Cash  Box  in  a 
manner  which  for  him  is  mighty  genial.  He  intimates 
he's  got  his  eye  on  a  lady  he's  goin'  to  marry,  an'  ree- 
quires  five  thousand  dollars  to  back  the  play. 

"'At  first,'  says  Black  Ball,  keepin*  up  a  great  air  of 
glee,  'I  shrinks  back  from  becomin'  a  married  man. 
You  recalls  that  old  bluff  about  the  frogs,  Cash  Box,  an' 
how,  no  matter  how  bad  they  wants  water,  they  ref  ooses 
to  jump  in  a  well  because  they  can't  get  out  none  ag'in  ? 

316 


MRS.  BILL'S  PROTECTORATE 

That's  the  way  with  me;  I'm  held  back  by  that  frog 
view  I  takes  of  wedlock.  It's  beholdin'  you  an*  Missis 
Bill  together  does  the  trick;  it's  that  which  shore  crystal- 
izes  my  resolootion  a  heap.  She'll  be  mighty  near  as 
good  a  wife  as  yours,  Cash  Box;  an'  as  for  the  note,  said 
instrooment's  a  mere  matter  of  form  that  a-way.' 

"'I  thinks  so  to/  returns  Cash  Box;  'only  I'll  go  ask 
Missis  Bill.' 

"  Black  Ball's  hopes  of  Missis  Bill  ain't  over  bright, 
an*  he  gives  Cash  Box  a  argyooment,  an'  even  deescends 
to  taunt  him  some.  He  declar's  that  a  gent  who  won't 
sign  notes  for  a  pard  is  that  mean  an'  ornery,  if  he  owns 
a  lake  he  wouldn't  give  a  duck  a  drink.  It's  all  one  to 
Cash  Box,  obd'rate  in  his  docility;  he's  certainly  goin' 
to  get  the  views  of  Missis  Bill,  he  says. 

"'Well,'  concloods  Black  Ball,  when  he  finds  Cash 
Box  immov'ble,  'we'll  write  it  out,  an'  you  can  take  it 
along  an'  show  her  it  ain't  no  trant'ler.' 

"So  Black  Ball  writes  out  the  note  payable  to  the 
Tucson  bank,  an'  him  an'  Cash  Box  signs  up.  Then 
Cash  Box  goes  weavin'  over,  an'  submits  the  docyooment 
to  Missis  Bill.  That  lady  reads  it,  takes  the  shears 
which  hangs  by  a  string  from  her  belt,  an*  cuts  off  the 
signachoor  of  Cash  Box. 

" '  Carry  Black  Ball  that,'  she  says,  givin'  Cash  Box  the 
note  ag'in,  his  own  name  bein'  off;  'carry  it  back;  it's  his. 
Your  name,  which  is  yours,  I'll  keep.' 

"'Missis  Bill's  ag'in  us,'  says  Cash  Box.  'She  de 
clar's  that  promises  to  pay  money  becomes  as  the  worm 
that  dieth  not  an'  the  fire  which  is  not  quenched;  an', 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

nacherally,  sech  observations  from  sech  a  source  lets  me 
plumb  out/ 

"Black  Ball  makes  no  reply,  but  bites  away  at  his 
dark  lip. 

"This  yere's  at  noon;  an*  while  Black  Ball  an'  Cash 
Box  is  foolin'  an'  fussin*  over  their  express  business  the 
balance  of  the  day,  Black  Ball  ain't  sayin'  a  word.  As 
they're  lockin'  up  for  the  night,  he  onbuckles  a  trifle. 

"'Yousaveys,  Cash  Box,'  he  says,  puttin'  out  his 
long,  lean  hand  to  shake,  'that  I  ain't  got  no  feelin' 
ag'in  you?' 

"'Shore!'  says  Cash  Box,  takin'  Black  Ball's  hand. 

"As  they  sep'rates,  Black  Bali  comes  round  on  his 
heel  ag'in,  like  he  remembers  somethin'. 

" '  Oh! '  he  remarks, ' I'm  mighty  near  over-lookin'  a  bet. 
Let  me  have  the  key  to  the  steel  box;  thar's  a  tangle  in  my 
books,  an'  I'll  have  to  prance  round  some  early  tomorry 
mornin'  to  straighten  it  out.  Which  I  must  go  over  the 
checks  an'  cash  to  do  it.' 

"Cash  Box  is  that  guileless  he  gives  Black  Ball  the  key 
onhesitatin'.  Black  Ball  knows  the  comb'nation  to 
the  main  door  of  the  big  safe,  for  it's  thar  he  hives  his 
books  nights.  As  for  the  office  itse'f,  both  of  'em  has 
door  keys. 

"  Eevents  ondoubted  would  have  worked  out  to  Black 
Ball's  satisfaction  an'  our  loss,  if  it  ain't  that  his  designs 
strikes  the  onexpected  an'  glances  off.  They  caroms  on 
Missis  Bill,  an'  that  lady's  protectorate  over  Cash  Box, 
a  excellent  feachure  wharof  is  her  ropin'  onto  Cash 
Box's  keys,  the  instant  he  shows  in  the  door.  That 

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MRS.  BILL'S  PROTECTORATE 

particular  evening  when  Cash  Box  only  offers  her  the  big 
key,  Missis  Bill  can't  onderstand. 

"' Where's  the  little  key  to  the  steel  box?'  she  asks. 

"Cash  Box  explains.  Missis  Bill's  face  takes  on  a 
worry  look,  an'  her  one  eye  exhibits  symptoms.  An' 
yet  she  don't  like  to  go  harrowin*  Cash  Box  up. 

"'Only,'  she  says,  sort  o'  considerin'  the  business,  'I 
shore  wisht  you-all  hadn't  a-done  it  none.' 

" '  Yo  tambien,  now  you  says  so,'  returns  Cash  Box. 
'Which  it'll  be  all  right,  however;  Black  Bali  wouldn't 
no  more  go  minglin'  with  that  cash  from  crim'nal  motives, 
than  Old  Monte'd  quit  nosepaint.  Thar  ain't  a  chance! ' 

"  Cash  Box  is  mighty  confident,  but  somehow,  Missis 
Bill  don't  feel  so  plumb  shore. 

"'I  can't  go  ask  Black  Ball  for  the  key  now,'  explains 
Cash  Box,  replyin'  to  the  look  in  Missis  Bill's  lone  eye; 
*it'd  be  same  as  sayin'  he's  a  thief.' 

"'Troo,'  assents  Missis  Bill,  'it's  too  late  now.' 

"Cash  Box,  who's  out  o'  reach  of  worry  only  as  he 
ketches  it  second  hand  from  Missis  Bill,  lights  his 
seegyar  after  supper,  an'  wanders  down  to  the  Red 
Light  for  them  legit'mate  five  drinks.  Havin'  absorbed 
'em,  he  in  doo  time  says  adios  to  the  assembled  company, 
an*  organizes  for  home. 

"'Late  hours,'  says  he,  'don't  do  for  married  gents; 
speshully  when  they  has  wives  like  Missis  Bill.  Which 
I'd  sooner  be  that  lady's  husband  than  draw  the  wages  of 
a  king.' 

" '  Don't  it  strike  you,  Cash  Box,'  observes  Peets,  who 
likes  to  tease  folks  who  seems  el'gible  tharunto — 'don't 

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WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

it  strike  you-all  as  borderin'  on  the  miraculous,  that  sech 
a  bein'  as  Missis  Bill  is  caught  travelin'in  your  company  ?' 

"'It  shore  does!'  returns  Cash  Box  plenty  stout. 
'Still,  you  finds  some  mighty  bafflin'  combinations  in 
this  yere  life.  You  recalls  how  the  Savior  rides  into 
Jeroosalem  on  a  burro  that  time.' 

"  It's  one  of  the  drawbacks  to  the  possession  of  great 
intellects  that,  the  more  mind  a  party  has,  the  more  that 
party  has  on  it.  While  Cash  Box  sleeps  like  a  dead 
man,  Missis  Bill,  who  can't  get  her  thoughts  off  Black 
Ball,  remains  as  wakeful  as  squinch  owls.  At  last,  to 
peacefy  her  own  nerves,  she  gets  up,  dons  a  frock,  wrops 
a  shawl  about  her,  adjusts  her  shaker,  an'  starts  for  the 
express  office  which  is  on  the  fringe  of  the  camp. 

"That  time  former,  when  Missis  Bill  gets  married,  the 
nuptials  is  pulled  off  at  the  Four-J  ranch.  It's  her  pap, 
old  Bill  Blackburn,  who  owns  the  Four-J  outfit.  As  she 
an'  Cash  Box  goes  arrangin'  for  the  get-away  to  Hillsboro, 
where  they  aims  to  pass  the  honeymoon,  old  man 
Blackburn  approaches  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"'My  child,'  he  says  to  Missis  Bill,  'on  this  ycre 
solemn  occasion  let  me,  accordin'  to  the  customs  of  our 
house,  endow  you-all  with  the  Blackburn  fam'ly  jooels;' 
an',  with  that,  he  passes  Missis  Bill  his  Colt's-45 — 
cartridge  belt,  scabbard  an*  all. 

"As  Missis  Bill  caparisons  herse'f  for  that  midnight 
trip  to  the  express  office,  she  buckles  on  the  ancestral 
weepon.  It's  the  one  she  bombards  the  rattlesnake  with, 
an'  she's  plumb  familiar  with  it. 

"Next  to  the  express  office  is  the  corrals;  but  thar's 
320 


MRS.  BILL'S  PROTECTORATE 

nobody  thar  at  midnight,  the  greasers  who  should,  bein' 
one  an'  all  over  in  Chihuahua,  wearin*  out  their  moccasins 
at  Santa  Rosa's  dance  hall,  or  losin'  the  coats  off  their 
improv'dent  backs  at  chuck-a-luck  an'  monte.  As 
Missis  Bill  approaches  the  express  office,  she  notes  two 
things  that  sends  her  heart  into  her  mouth.  The  door 
to  the  office  is  on  the  swing;  also,  through  the  gloom  an' 
shadows,  she  makes  out  a  party  on  a  pony,  jest  ridin' 
out  of  the  corral. 

"Without  a  genius  for  promptitood,  life  in  Arizona 
slumps  off  into  failure;  an'  so  troo  is  this  that  even  the 
ladies  final  becomes  plenty  prone  to  get  thar  on  time  with 
both  feet.  Missis  Bill,  the  instant  she  sees  the  open 
door,  an'  the  mustange  gent  in  the  shadows,  reaches 
for  old  dad  Blackburn's  gun. 

"'Hands  up!'  says  Missis  Bill,  as  she  works  her  six- 
shooter  to  the  front,  an'  Jack  Moore  himse'f  couldn't 
have  give  the  call-down  more  abrupt. 

"The  answer  is  a  shot  from  the  party  on  the  pony, 
which  flies  high;  then  he  drives  home  his  spurs,  an' 
charges  Missis  Bill  to  ride  her  down. 

"The  idee  is  good,  all  things  considered,  but  it  breaks 
down  in  the  execootion.  The  pap  Blackburn  six- 
shooter  cracks,  an'  the  chargin'  gent  comes  whirlin'  out 
o'  the  saddle  like  a  shot  wild  duck.  He  clears  his  feet 
from  the  stirrups,  as  he  comes  over  the  saddle  horn,  an' 
the  freed  pony  wheels  an'  runs  back  into  the  corral. 

"Yes,  it's  Black  Ball;  an',  since  Missis  Bill's  bullet 
ketches  him  as  squar'  between  the  eyes  as  you-all  could 
put  your  finger,  it  goes  without  sayin'  that  he's  concloo- 

321 


WOLFVILLE  FOLKS 

sively  not  to  add  exhaustively  dead,  when  he  hits  the 
grass.  That  he  comes  off  over  the  saddle-horn,  that 
a-way,  is  enough  of  itse'f  to  show  he's  all  in.  When  a 
gent's  goin*  to  get  well,  he  falls  backward;  when  he's 
plugged  plumb  center,  he  comes  for'ard  onto  his  face. 
Thar's  mighty  clost  onto  ninety  thousand  dollars  on 
Black  Ball  when  Missis  Bill  stops  him; — the  bankroll 
of  the  entire  camp! 

"'That  little  incident  of  Black  Ball,'  says  Missis  Bill  a 
month  later,  when  the  Express  Company  offishuls  asks 
her  to  name  her  reward — 'that  little  incident  of  Black 
Ball,  gents,  has  sort  o'  sp'iled  the  camp  for  me;  an',  if 
you-all  jest  as  soon,  I'd  shore  like  to  have  you  shift  Cash 
Box  to  some  station  further  off.' 

"'Ain't  Missis  Bill  the  lion-hearted  lady?'  says  Cash 
Box,  as  he  comes  down  to  the  Red  Light  to  say  'good-by' 
the  evenin'  before  him  an'  Missis  Bill  goes  squanderin' 
off  for  the  Dalls;  'ain't  she  the  guardian  angel  of  the 
broad  an'  sweepin'  wing?  Well  I  should  yell!' 

"She's  a  lady  to  be  proud  of,  Cash  Box!'  replies  En- 
right.  'An'  now  thar's  another  matter:  Nacherally, 
the  boys  feels  some  grateful  to  Missis  Bill.  They  was 
roundin'  themselves  up  to  give  her  a  banquet;  but,  upon 
reflection,  rum  not  bein'  her  long  suite,  they  reeluctantly 
puts  the  notion  by.  Tharfore,  Cash  Box,  you  give 
Missis  Bill  the  best  compliments  of  the  outfit,  an'  say 
that  she'll  find  a  silver  tea-set,  branded  with  her  'nitials, 
waitin'  at  your  company's  joint  in  Tucson;  said  tea-set 
bein7  a  jo-darter,  or  old  Sam  Enright  ain't  no  jedge!"1 

THE   END 

(1) 


TWO    NEW    BIOGRAPHIES. 

By  ALFRED  HENRY  LEWIS. 

An  American  Patrician. 

The  Romance  of  Aaron  Burr.  Illustrated.  Cloth, 
$2.00  net ;  postage  additional. 

This,  in  a  measure,  is  a  companion  book  to  the  story  of  Andrew 
Jackson,  "  When  Men  Grew  Tall."  It  tells  the  biography  of  Aaron 
Burr  in  a  story  form.  This  method  of  treatment,  especially  in  the 
case  of  Burr,  gives  an  extraordinary  reality  to  the  book,  inasmuch 
as  Burr,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  American,  led  a  life  so  ro 
mantic  from  its  beginning  to  its  close  that  it  reads  more  like  fiction 
than  truth.  The  story  takes  up  Burr  in  his  early  days ;  shows  the 
tendencies  born  in  him;  tells  in  a  most  picturesque  manner,  by 
means  of  conversation,  anecdote,  and  narrative,  the  principal  epi 
sodes  of  his  early  life  ;  and  goes  over  the  whole  story  of  the  insur 
rection  in  the  most  dramatic  manner.  The  Hamilton-Burr  duel 
is  graphically  described,  and  the  book  closes  with  an  anecdotal 
picture  of  Burr's  last  days.  There  is  no  question  that  this  book 
gives  by  its  method  of  treatment  a  most  realistic  and  graphic  picture 
of  perhaps  the  most  romantic  life  in  American  history. 

When  Men  Grew  Tall. 

The  Story  of  Andrew  Jackson.  Illustrated.  Cloth, 
$2.00  net ;  postage  additional. 

This  is  an  original  form  of  biography  which  Mr.  Lewis  has  suc 
cessfully  undertaken.  It  tells  the  story  of  Andrew  Jackson's  life 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  almost  in  the  form  of  fiction.  There 
are  conversations  which,  though  of  course  imaginary,  are  based 
upon  the  best  historical  authorities.  The  author  has  endeavored  to 
reproduce  the  atmosphere  of  the  times,  the  people,  and  the  customs 
of  that  day  by  making  a  vivid  picture  such  as  is  produced  in  a  good 
novel.  All  the  facts  stated,  all  the  episodes,  all  the  mental  pro 
cesses  of  Jackson  himself  are  correct  and  authentic.  The  author's 
idea  has  been  to  eliminate  the  pompous  form  of  the  typical  biog 
raphy.  The  result  is  an  interesting,  absorbing  story,  which  is  after 
all  a  part  of  American  history.  The  story  covers  the  origin  and 
early  days  of  Andrew  Jackson,  and  his  home  life.  It  gives  admira 
ble  pictures  of  the  rough  frontier  existence  of  that  time,  follows 
Jackson  through  the  New  Orleans  episode,  goes  minutely  into  his 
family  life,  and  finally  gives  a  picture  of  Jackson  as  President  of  the 
United  States.  The  book  is  copiously  illustrated. 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


THE  LEADING  NOVEL  OF  TODAY. 


The  Fighting  Chance. 

By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS.  Illustrated  by  A.  R 
Wenzell.  I2mo.  Ornamental  Cloth,  $1.50. 

In  "The  Fighting  Chance"  Mr.  Chambers  has  taken 
for  his  hero,  a  young  fellow  who  has  inherited  with  his 
wealth  a  craving  for  liquor.  The  heroine  has  inherited  a 
certain  rebelliousness  and  dangerous  caprice.  The  two, 
meeting  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  fight  out  their  battles,  two 
weaknesses  joined  with  love  to  make  a  strength.  It  is  re 
freshing  to  find  a  story  about  the  rich  in  which  all  the 
women  are  not  sawdust  at  heart,  nor  all  the  men  satyrs. 
The  rich  have  their  longings,  their  ideals,  their  regrets, 
as  well  as  the  poor ;  they  have  their  struggles  and  inherited 
evils  to  combat.  It  is  a  big  subject,  painted  with  a  big 
brush  and  a  big  heart. 

"  After  *  The  House  of  Mirth '  a  New  York  society  novel 
has  to  be  very  good  not  to  suffer  fearfully  by  comparison. 
'  The  Fighting  Chance '  is  very  good  and  it  does  not 
suffer." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"There  is  no  more  adorable  person  in  recent  fiction 
than  Sylvia  Landis." — New  York  Evening  Sun, 

"  Drawn  with  a  master  hand." — Toledo  Blade. 

"An  absorbing  tale  which  claims  the  reader's  interest 
to  the  end."— Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  Mr.  Chambers  has  written  many  brilliant  stories,  but 
this  is  his  masterpiece." — Pittsburg  Chronicle  Telegraph. 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


A  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LIFE. 

David  Harum. 

Illustrated  Edition.  With  70  full-page  and 
text  pictures  by  B.  West  Clinedinst,  and  other 
text  designs  by  C.  D.  Farrand,  and  a  biography 
of  the  author  by  Forbes  Heermans.  12010. 
$1.50. 

"What  seems  to  us  to  be  the  final  judgment  of  'David  Harum'  is 
given  in  the  North  American  Re-view  by  no  less  a  personage  than  John 
Oliver  Hobbes.  This  review  strikes  at  the  root  of  the  matter. 

"  '  It  would  not  be  presumptuous  to  say,'  opines  Mrs.  Craigie,  'well 
remembering  the  magnificent  ability  of  certain  English  authors  of  the 
present  day,  that  not  one  could  create  a  character  which  would  win  the 
whole  English  population  as  David  Harum  has  won  the  American 
public.  The  reason  is  plain.  With  so  many  class  distinctions,  a  na 
tional  figure  is  out  of  the  question.  A  national  hero — yes;  but  a  man 
for  "  winterin'  and  summerin'  with" — no.  Social  equality  and  inde 
pendence  of  thought,  in  spite  of  all  abortive  attempts  to  introduce  the 
manners  and  traditions  of  feudal  Europe,  are  in  the  very  air  of  the 
United  States.  One  could  not  find  an  American  man  or  woman  of  the 
true  stock  who  had  not  known  intimately,  or  who  did  not  count  among 
his  or  her  ancestors,  connections,  relatives,  a  David  Harum.  The  type, 
no  doubt,  is  getting  old :  becoming  more  and  more  ' '  removed  "  from  the 
younger  generation.  In  the  course  of  the  next  twenty  years  it  may 
become  so  changed  as  to  seem  extinct,  but  it  is  a  national  figure — cer 
tainly  the  most  original,  probably  the  purest  in  blood.  And  the  spirit 
of  Harum  is  the  undying  spirit — no  matter  how  much  modified  it  may 
eventually  become  by  refinement,  travel,  and  foreign  influence — of  the 
American  people.  Individuals  may  change,  but  the  point  of  view 
remains  unalterable. '  "—New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  '  David  Harum '  is  one  of  those  extremely  rare  and  perfectly  fresh 
creations  in  current  fiction  which  really  enrich  our  literature.  In  brief, 
it  is  a  masterpiece,  and  one  that  deserves  an  immense  popularity.  No 
words  can  adequately  describe  its  wholesome,  sparkling  humor,  its  quaint 
and  endearing  originality,  its  genuine  Yankee  wit  and  native  shrewdness. 
A  well-nigh  perfect  work  it  is — a  creation  which  will  take  a  permanent 
place  among  American  literary  portraits." — Literary  Review. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


NOVELS  BY  HALL  CAINE. 

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elements  of  pathos  and  tragedy,  so  plainly  marked  with  the  power  to  search 
the  human  heart  and  reveal  its  secret  springs  of  strength  and  weakness,  its 
passion  and  strife,  so  sincere  and  satisfying  as  '  The  Prodigal  Son.' " 

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LIBRARY,   UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,   DAVIS 

Book  Slip-55m-10,'68(J4048s8)458 — A-31/5 


N9  612847 


PS3523 


Lewis,  A.H.  E?9 

Wolfville  folks.         W65 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


